


The Elysium High

by EllenOfOz



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Addict Sam Winchester, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Angels are Dicks, Confused Castiel, Cyborg Castiel (Supernatural), Detective Dean Winchester, Detective Sam Winchester, Drug Use, Drugged Sex, F/M, Los Angeles, M/M, Nanotechnology, Recreational Drug Use, SPNDystopiaBang2018, Slow Burn, Witch Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-16 21:11:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 44,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14818943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllenOfOz/pseuds/EllenOfOz
Summary: In the not-too-distant future, climate change has wreaked havoc on the city of Los Angeles. When sea levels rose, and the Los Angeles Basin began to flood regularly like many coastal areas around the world, the population of the city moved up, off the ground and into the scrapers.Many years later, the city is divided into three rough zones: the Topzone, where the very wealthy live in the sunlight; the Midzone, where those of the less-well-off population live amid the flying traffic, the smog and their coffee addictions; and the Groundzone, what's left at close to ground level—dim, grimy and occasionally very wet.Sam and Dean Winchester are drug investigators in the LAPD. During a bust, Dean is saved by Castiel, one of the mysterious Angels, the elite fighting unit of the LA City Council. When Castiel insists on taking Dean to Paradise because he says they have work for him, Dean has little choice but to go along.But when a new drug, “Elysium”, hits the scene, people all over the city start dying. The brothers and Castiel must work out where the drug is coming from and stop its spread before it's too late.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All my love and thanks to my wonderful betas and proofreaders. We've all been going through rough times this year, and your cheerleading and midnight reading mean so much to me. Love you WaywardAF67, WaywardJenn, CBFirestarter, ViperVocals and TrenchcoatBaby. <3
> 
> Also, the [gorgeous art here](https://idjitsaviors.tumblr.com/post/174530409906/my-art-for-ellen-of-ozs-fic-the-elysium-high-for) and in Chapter 2 is by idjitsaviors. Find more of her things on [Tumblr](https://idjitsaviors.tumblr.com/).

**Chapter 1**

“Sam?” Dean tried not to sound frantic as he leaned through the lab doorway, looking for his brother.

“I've got it. Just let me…”

Dean watched as Sam made a shallow cut on his arm, letting blood trickle into a bowl, then muttering the incantation as he mixed the contents.

Dean turned back around, scanning the dimly-lit corridor and the staircase leading upwards for any sign of the Demons whose stash they were currently raiding. In a moment, Sam would be painting a sigil on each of the plexiglass containers, breaking the enchantment on the drug inside and rendering it little more than powdered sugar. Once, they might have burst in with a swat team, arresting everyone in the vicinity. Since Sam had started showing his affinity for magic, though, they preferred to go in quietly, sabotage the goods, then try to arrest anyone who came running.

A bright flash had Dean turning back to the room to see a fading purple glow around the largest container. Dean sighed, relieved. One more lot of Vamp off the streets.

Sam held his hands over the second box, and a purple glow appeared around them. Dean could see the tendons standing out on Sam's neck as he summoned the magic, deep in concentration. He hated how much this spellbreaking cost his brother.

As a flash marked the breaking of the second enchantment, Dean heard a noise in the corridor behind him. He whirled around and his eyes widened as he saw two large, black-clad men running towards him. Just two? Dean shrugged. The Demons were getting lazy.

“Sammy!” he shouted as he brought his gun around, firing off a couple of blasts at the guy leading the charge. The laser blast glanced off his shoulder—must be armoured under the shirts—but he kept pushing forward. These guys weren't messing around.

He heard a muffled, “I'm done!” just as one man barrelled into him, sending them both onto the plascrete floor. He saw stars momentarily as his head met the floor, and by the time he was lucid again, the man was on top of him, fist raised to strike. He hoped Sam would just get the hell out of there rather than try to help him, but he didn't want to draw attention to him by calling out again. He let the man get a few hits in to capture his attention before he grunted and threw him off, scrambling across the floor for his gun.

The other man screamed from over by the lab door, and he stumbled backwards, a throwing knife jutting out of his eye.

Dean and the first man glanced back at one another for a moment in horror, then remembered they were at war. Dean raised his gun just as the other man knocked it aside, and threw a kick into his side, which Dean blocked. They traded a few more blows and Dean had never been so glad for his jiu jitsu training. He grabbed the guy and threw him to the ground, twisting his meaty arm up behind his back.

“You're under… arrest,” he grated out, trying to catch his breath. “Anything you say may be—aaargh!”

A searing pain shot through his shoulder. Some fucker had shot him from behind! He let out a stream of curses as the man under him squirmed away from his weakened grip.

“Fucking… fuck!” Dean spat as he gripped his shoulder, pain burning across his chest and back. He looked at his hand quickly to see charred cloth and skin, but mercifully, not a lot of blood. Laser wounds tended to burn and char more than they bled.

He turned to see five or six more people running down the hall. He tried to get up and lurch away from his attackers, but the first guy he had tried to shoot clocked him in the temple as he turned, and he went down again, his ears ringing. He was aware of his ribs being kicked as he curled on the floor, then a door banged open and deafening laser fire filled the corridor.

The men near the staircase gave a warning shout, then went down as they were picked off.

Through his blurred vision, Dean could make out a man at the top of the stairs. At least, he thought it was a man. A bright light shone around him from somewhere behind. His dark hair was wild, his face grim as he walked down the stairs, his long coat flying out behind him. He took out the rest of the drug dealers with a few shots and a few more well-placed punches when they tried to approach. Dean blinked as the man came closer. Shadows stretched out behind him as the lighting flickered, giving the impression of wings.

“S-Sammy…?” Dean gasped out, suddenly terrified.

Before he lost consciousness, he was aware of the man tilting his head to regard him, piercing blue eyes squinting at him. Then strong arms lifted Dean, and he knew no more.

  


Dean blinked his eyes open, wincing at the stabbing pain in his head. Wow, he must have been on a nasty bender last night. His eyes were gritty, and when he tried to lift his head, it felt like it weighed a ton. He picked up a hand to rub the side of his head, and drew in a sharp breath, remembering the drug bust as he touched a sore spot on his temple.

He blinked again and looked around. He was in a hospital room, by the look of the machines around him. Dim Midzone daylight filtered through the window blinds. Beside the window a person was slumped in a chair asleep, and Dean let out a relieved breath when he realized it was Sam.

He tried to stretch out a leg to kick at Sam's knee, but a tearing feeling in his shoulder brought him up short, gasping in pain.

Sam snorted and sat up, rubbing at his face. He blinked at Dean as he slumped back against the bed, panting.

“Dean!” Sam sat up straight with a jolt, blinking his sleep away. “You all right?”

Dean clenched his teeth and said, “I've been better. How long was I out?”

“A few hours. They pumped you full of pain relief—you should be able to dial it up if you need to.”

Dean grunted as he raised his arm, pleased to see that his comm was still on his wrist. The thing had cost a damn fortune—he couldn’t afford to lose it. He brought up the nanite display and found the listing. Yep, they really had pumped him with pain relievers. He increased the dosage the little bastards were giving him, and felt relief almost immediately.

He sighed, slumping back on the pillow. He normally wouldn't have been able to do that himself—phys-nanite control was strictly for medical professionals, but being able to control his own pain threshold was handy in his line of work. The miniscule robots went about their work in his bloodstream, administering the pain meds in controlled doses.

He looked to Sam, who was watching him, warily. “Go on, what happened? How did I get here?”

“How much do you remember?”

“Not much. Shooting in the corridor, then I was out.” It wasn't quite the whole truth—he vaguely remembered another person there… Blue eyes, long dark coat, but he wasn't sure if that had been a dream.

Sam looked away, hesitant to speak, which made Dean even more curious. “What happened to you?” he asked.

“Well, I competed the rituals, broke the enchantments, but when the shooting started, I hung back. I took down one of the guys at the door with a knife.”

Sam paused, and Dean winced as that particular mental image came back.

Sam looked back at Dean and continued, “That's when things got weird. The other guy was beating on you, and I was trying to work out how I could get involved without hurting you, when a bunch of other guys showed up, so I just ducked back in the lab to stay out of sight. Then the door at the top of the stairs opened and all the lights started fritzing, but then there were these shots and it was all quiet, so I came out to see what happened. The Demons were all lying around, dead or whatever, and this guy… an Angel... was just…”

“An Angel?” Dean asked. His eyebrows shot up at the mention of a member of the LA City Council’s elite Angel force. There were rumours that they weren't quite human.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck. “It was creepy. He was kneeling next to you and just… staring at you. With his head tilted to one side,” Sam tilted his head to demonstrate, “for like, thirty seconds. I called out eventually and he looked up at me, then he picked you up in his arms and said, ‘Come, Sam Winchester,’ in this deep-as-fuck voice. So I followed him—I mean, what else could I do when a fucking Angel who knows my name tells me to follow him?”

Dean was enthralled. He huffed out a laugh and winced at the stab of pain through his shoulder. “So he brought me here? Where are we, anyway?”

“Midzone-15. Just a few blocks from the station, actually. When you're feeling better, we're supposed to go report in.”

“You mean, go get out butts kicked?” Dean sighed again.

Sam gave a small laugh. “Yeah, I guess.”

An Angel? Dean couldn't believe it. Those guys were almost a legend at this point—an urban myth told to small children, that Angels watched over them, keeping them safe. In reality they were the Council's strike force, a security unit that dealt with dissenters and rebels against the governance before they became a threat. They would very rarely show themselves in the open, and certainly not in a Midzone hospital like this.

He spoke up again. “How d’you know he was an Angel?”

“He told me. I asked him who he was and he said he was from Paradise, or something.”

“What was an Angel doing there? They don't usually bother with drug dealers.”

Sam looked spooked, sitting there wide-eyed and fidgeting. “That's just it, he didn't say anything. We got out of there, but he wouldn't let me take you. Kept saying, ‘I will take him.’ It was creepy as fuck. Anyway, he put you in this beat-up old Dodge and drove off. I had to scramble to our car and follow him, then he came straight here and carried you into the ED.”

“Okay.” Dean didn't know what to make of it. How did the Angel know Sam's name? And why would he have bothered carrying him out of there, only to disappear without an explanation? It made no sense.

Sam stood up and stretched his long arms above his head. “How's the shoulder now?”

Dean gingerly moved his arm up and down, and found the pain had dulled. “I'll live. C’mon, let's blow this joint.”

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, finding a few more bruises on his ribs as he sat up fully. His hospital gown rode up enough that Sam averted his eyes, saying, “Dude, seriously. I'll wait outside.”

Dean chuckled as he found his clothes, neatly folded on a table next to the bed.

  


Outside, the thin Midzone sunlight filtered down between the tall buildings of Los Angeles. The scrapers widened slightly at their tops, making the sky far above nearly invisible.

Between the lofty Topzone, where the rich and privileged lived in the sunlight, and the wide gangway around a scraper in the Midzone where Sam and Dean now stood, the air was filled with cars of every color and size, zooming along, flying in their designated lanes that crossed and merged in intricate networks.

By the time they got to where Sam had parked the car, the dim daylight was starting to fade. Sam threw him the keys, and Dean slid into the driver's seat, running his hands over the faux leather trim. The vehicle was wide, black and loud, and for some reason the model was named after a long-extinct African animal. Dean pulled the Impala out of the parking lot and into the stream of traffic, taking a down-ramp towards the Mid-15 station.

A car overtook them on the left and sped off, honking loudly. Dean muttered, “Yeah, nice one, asshole. Good thing I don’t give a shit today.” They hardly ever bothered booking people for traffic offenses these days, anyway. Cars basically drove themselves, and most traffic infringements were detected by an automated system, their perpetrators dealt with later once their rap sheet was long enough.

As the car leveled off, Sam piped up. “Do you think we should mention the Angel to the Chief? It just all feels so weird to me, you know?”

Dean eyed Sam briefly, then looked back at the lane in front. “You got a feeling about this?” Sam had been occasionally having funny feelings and strange dreams for a while now, ever since his brush with a witch down in Groundzone-12. Dean was dismissive at first, but when a few of them had come uncannily true, he’d started taking heed of Sam’s hunches.

Sam shrugged. “Maybe? I’m not sure. Let’s just keep it quiet, okay? I got you out of there, if anyone asks.”

“Okay.” Dean didn’t feel right himself about keeping the mysterious Angel a secret, but he’d humour Sam this time. He pulled into the station parking lot, and they headed across a wide bridge across Broadway, linking the Midzone levels of two scrapers. Dean grabbed Sam's arm for a moment, then pointed toward the middle of the bridge where a small coffee cart was set up, fairy lights twinkling around it and a Paradise Coffee logo emblazoned on the front. A huge, golden ring was suspended over the cart on a pole, like a giant halo.

“Fuck yes,” Sam said, then his face flushed when he noticed the girl making coffee for a lady wearing a bright yellow scarf.

Dean waggled his eyebrows at Sam and nudged him forward. “Go on, don’t be shy.”

As Sam went over and bought two coffees, flirting awkwardly with the pretty girl with the long, brown hair, Dean walked to the opposite side of the bridge and looked through the high security fence over the edge, his stomach clenching at the height. The ground, the true ground, was a long, long way down. When the climate had warmed enough to raise the sea level, the city began to flood on the highest tides. The population had moved up into the sky, into the tall scrapers that soared above the old Downtown area. Other areas of the city were long abandoned, now little more than rotting concrete and the gradual creep of nature.

Down in the underbelly of the city, officially called the Groundzone, the sunlight barely penetrated and the fumes were cloying and thick. Some streets closer to the coast were awash with seawater, creating deadly canals. Down there was where the gang of thieves and drug dealers known as the Demons did their business.

It was known to the LAPD that many of the wealthier demons actually lived in the Midzone, even the lower Topzone. They made their living preying on the desperate and unfortunate who made the Groundzone their home. And it was Sam and Dean and the rest of what was left of the police force who tried to keep the Demons in their place.

Sam headed over and passed Dean one of the cups. He inhaled the aroma before taking a sip of the scalding contents. “Sweet elixir of life.” Dean grinned.

They headed inside the lowest of several floors of a scraper the LAPD called home. The facade was built up here in the Midzone to look like an old-school brick police headquarters, but the interior was businesslike and sleek, chrome and hardened glass.

“Dean! Sam! You all right?” Rufus, the older man who ran the dispatch, stood up when he saw them come in and gripped their hands in turn.

“Yeah, thanks Rufus. We’re good. Chief in?” Sam asked as they walked past.

“I think so. Check his office.” Rufus said as he sat down again.

As they approached the offices along the far wall, Dean heard a loud voice through a closed door. “Balls!” He shared a quick grin with Sam as he reached for the door handle.

Police Chief Bobby Singer was sitting at his desk, head in his hands. He stood up as the brothers walked in, scowling at them. “Well, look what the cat dragged in. I thought I told you boys to stay away from that Vamp stash. Next I hear I gotta pay a bill from Mid-15 General Hospital!”

Dean looked at his boots, saying nothing. He’d known that the raid might get him and Sam in trouble, but he’d hoped it was the right sort of trouble that came with a drug haul and a bunch of arrests. He had no idea how they were going to explain how they got out of there.

“Did you at least strip the enchantment?” When Dean looked up, Bobby was glaring at Sam.

Sam shifted uncomfortably. “Yes, and I grabbed a sample before we got out of there.” He rummaged in his coat pocket and pulled out a small bag with red powder inside. He passed it over to Bobby. They would have preferred to take the whole haul rather than leave it for the Demons to take back again, but removing the enchantment was better than nothing. To re-enchant the powder would be time consuming and expensive.

Bobby sighed. “At least it wasn’t a complete disaster. How did you get out of there? And are you all right?” he added, looking at Dean.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Modern medtech, eh?” Dean replied, nodding and rubbing at his shoulder.

Sam spoke quickly before Dean could go on. “Dean managed to take a few of them down before they knocked him out. I shot the last couple and carried him out of there.”

Dean looked nervously back at Bobby, but the old man merely eyed Sam appreciatively. “You’re a machine, Sam. Well, I’m glad you idjits are okay. It’s better than the rest of the news I’ve had today.”

Sam glanced at Dean, then said, “What news is that, Bobby?”

“They’re banning us from the Groundzone.”

“What?!” Sam echoed Dean as they both stared at the chief.

“We’ve had a directive from the Council. We’re to stay in the Midzone unless absolutely necessary. They’re pulling up our jurisdiction.” Bobby sat down in his chair again, rubbing at his forehead with one hand.

“But… what about the Demons? We’re just supposed to leave the people down there to fend for themselves?” Dean was incredulous. “Bobby, the school.”

“I know, Dean. I know. But we don’t have a choice. They must have something new planned for the underbelly if they’re pulling us out. Just… please, stay clear. The last thing we need will be a buncha Angels on our tails.” Bobby looked tired.

Dean shared another pointed look with Sam, but his brother shook his head.

Dean was horrified. The Groundzone was a dangerous place to live, but those who did make their home down near the ground often had no other choice. Drug addicts, petty criminals or just incredibly poor, they had very little chance to improve their lot and move upwards into the light. Many of them became junkers—addicts and thieves who lived off whatever they could scavenge or steal.

The school, though… staying away from the school could be disastrous. His heart ached with the memory of Lydia. She had begged him to look after the children, as she’d lain bleeding in his arms…

“Dean?” Sam nudged him and he blinked, brought back to the present.

“Sorry, say again?” he said, hoarsely.

Bobby sighed. “Never mind. Go home and take it easy, Dean. I don’t wanna see you two idjits until next week, you hear me?”

Sam and Dean nodded and shuffled out of the office.

Sam turned to him as they walked back outside towards the car. The light had failed in the Topzone now, but the lights of the Midzone shining through the haze meant that it was never really dark in the city.

“You okay? You looked like you were gonna puke back there.”

Dean frowned and kept his eyes down. “I’m fine. I just don’t plan on staying up here.”

“I thought you might say that.” Sam sighed and shook his head fondly.

The brothers headed to the car, and it wasn’t until they both got in that Sam drained the last of his coffee cup, turning it to read the writing on it.

“Well, shit,” he said, turning bright red again.

Dean leaned over and laughed when he saw the comm number printed neatly on the side of the cup, with “Ruby xx” written below.

  


“Castiel, your mission was clear. Extraction and delivery, yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

Zachariah eyed Castiel thoughtfully. “Why did you not bring Dean Winchester here, then?”

Castiel blinked, confused. “He was injured and unconscious. I took him to a hospital to be healed.”

“You should have brought him straight here, Castiel. Injury or no. Report for reconditioning at once.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” Castiel turned on his heel and marched out of the brightly lit office, into an equally bright corridor. He wondered, not for the first time, what the Council wanted with Dean Winchester. He had seemed like an ordinary man, although rather extraordinarily pleasant to look at, even with a hole in his shoulder. His preliminary scan of the man after his arrival had only suggested a muscle tear and burn, rather than lasting damage, plus a concussion. Castiel had still felt compelled to protect the man, and deliver him for healing. Once again he lamented his lack of healing abilities, as some of his colleagues were gifted with.

No, he was a soldier, not meant to be a medic, or to feel compassion of any kind. He steeled his resolve and walked into the programming lab, to have his memories of the Winchester brothers stripped away.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Extract: LAPD Drugs register**  
>  Compiled by Sam Winchester
> 
> The following is a register of known drugs circulating in Los Angeles. Almost all are made from manufactured sugars and enchanted by witches, many of which are known to the LAPD. 
> 
> **Vamp**  
>  Base: dihydroxyacetone  
> Appearance: White powder, sometimes dyed red  
> Enchantment effect: Induces euphoria, inhuman strength and speed, heightened senses. Makes eyes glow and skin shimmer slightly.  
> Side effects: variable but usually include a strong compulsion to bite, to draw blood. Aversion to bright lights, especially UV.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean was already up and eating breakfast when Sam got back from his run. He'd made it up twenty floors this time before he'd had to bend over and gasp for air, and as he jogged back down the stairs he'd realized he'd beaten his personal best.

Sam let himself back into the apartment, feeling pleased with himself, but stopped short when he met Dean’s thinly-veiled look of disgust.

“What?” Sam toed off his shoes and began stretching his calves.

“Running. You have tech to control your fitness. Why bother with exercise?” Dean shovelled in a mouthful of cereal.

Sam grunted as he stretched out his back, hearing his spine pop. “The tech controls metabolism and helps to prevent disease, Dean. Nothing can fix your muscle tone or cardiovascular…”

Dean cut him off, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah, spare me.”

Sam filled a glass from the water filter and took a long drink, then eyed his brother. “What's up with you? Got up on the wrong side of bed or something?”

Dean shifted in his chair and grunted. “Juice wore off. Only problem with turning up the dose—runs out quicker.”

Sam nodded. Nanites could be programmed to carry medicines and release controlled doses into the bloodstream, but there was no way for them to manufacture more if they ran out.

“Charlie should be able to hook you up,” he said as he headed into the back of the apartment.

Dean called, “Yeah, I'll head up soon.”

The apartment Sam shared with his brother was small, and hardly luxurious by Midzone standards, but it was comfortable enough for two single professionals. The two bedrooms were along a long hallway, with the bathroom on the other side.

Sam showered and got dressed, suddenly rethinking his orange jacket after Ruby had commented on it yesterday. He had saved her number in his comm but had been too terrified to send her a message. As he lay in bed last night, staring at the ceiling, he'd talked himself into asking her out in person today, or whenever he next passed the coffee cart. Hopefully today, if they were going up to the station against Bobby's wishes.

He threw on his black coat instead and headed out to join Dean. His brother was waiting by the door, looking impatient.

“You ready? I'm in pain, here.” Dean was clutching at his arm, holding it against his body.

Sam frowned as he walked to the door and opened it. “Aren't you healing?”

“Yeah, it's a bit better, but it aches.”

Sam rolled his eyes at his big baby of a brother as they walked away from the apartment and into the smog of lower Mid-16. The scrapers might look shabby down here, but their bones of hardened steel were well-monitored and cared for by the Council, to keep the upper zones aloft.

Sam coughed as he pulled a lungful of the outside air. “I'd better drive.”

“What? Are you kidding? No way a scratch is gonna keep me from my baby.” Dean looked scandalised.

They walked across a narrow bridge to the next scraper and entered the garage, taking an elevator up past the levels of parked cars to the Impala’s allocated spot. Dean cursed and grumbled the whole drive, all the way from the parking lot, six blocks over and up a dozen levels to the station. Sam tried hard not to comment. His brother was way too stubborn for his own good.

The coffee cart was open as usual as they made their way over from the parking lot. Sam's heart jumped into his throat when he saw Ruby there, but he hadn't realized he'd reacted out loud until Dean started laughing at him.

“Go on, big guy, ask her out! I've gotta get inside. Fix pain before caffeine.” He gave Sam a nudge and walked off ahead.

 _Jerk_. Sam smiled nervously, then took a deep breath and approached the cart, its halo glowing dully in the thick haze. The sickly light fell on Ruby's hands as they expertly brewed coffee, then poured it into a cup and handed it to the waiting customer. Her long, red fingernails glinted and Sam had to force himself to push down a mental image of what those hands could do on his body, those nails scratching down his back…

“Hey! It’s Sam, right?” she asked, smiling up at him.

His face burned momentarily, and he swallowed. “Y-yes. Good morning, Ruby. How are you?”

Ruby's grin widened as she took him in. “All the better for seeing you. Two of the usual today?”

“Yes please,” he got out, then completely clammed up. He could think of exactly nothing to make conversation about.

Ruby started to make the coffee, then glanced up at him. “So, you're a cop?”

Sam rubbed the back of his neck as he nodded. “I'm officially off-duty today, though, so you didn't see me.”

Ruby laughed, and her eyes sparkled, and Sam was _lost_. He was dimly aware of coffee being prepared and milk being poured, but all he could see was Ruby's perfect smile and hair and the curve of her hip and…

Two cups were shoved into his hands. He looked down in surprise, then back up at Ruby's bemused face. “You want to get a drink with me tonight?” he blurted.

Ruby's eyes widened in surprise and she let out a short laugh. Sam felt his face flame, and he nearly backed up off the edge of the bridge, but she said, “Sure, I'd like that. I'm on until five. Pick me up after that?”

Sam nearly floated into the station after they worked out the details. He couldn't believe she'd accepted. It felt like ages since he'd been on a date. It _had_ been ages.

As he walked back into the main floor and sat at his desk, Bobby spied him and wandered over. “Was that Dean I saw slink in before? I thought I told you idjits not to come in today?” he said, frowning.

“He's just here to see Charlie, Bobby. He'll be fine.”

Bobby didn't look convinced. “Look, I'm not gonna try to stop you two from going down to the school today, but if you do, could you at least keep a low profile? I don't know when they're gonna start cracking heads with this ban, but if there are Angels down there, they might not take kindly to you.”

“We'll be careful.” Sam knew there was no way he could talk Dean out of going down there, either. The school in the Groundzone had been a special project of Dean's wife, Lydia, and ever since the botched mugging by a drug-crazed junker had claimed her life, Dean had checked on the welfare of the school and its students as often as he could. As often as his single-minded pursuit of the Demons and their drug ring would allow, anyway.

Bobby nodded. “All right. The report on that Vamp that you brought in yesterday is back, by the way. Standard issue trash. Angelica root and some other spicy crap, but otherwise standard spellwork.”

“Okay… ” Sam hedged, wondering why Bobby was so chatty today. He'd already had a comm about the Vamp results this morning. Nothing out of the ordinary there. “Everything all right, Bobby?”

“Oh, it's nothing, kid. It's just… are you okay? You've been using that magic of yours a lot lately. I'm, y'know… worried.”

The poor guy was frowning, staring at the floor like he might like to disappear down a crack. Sam had been working at the Mid-15 police station for nearly ten years now, and Dean had for even longer. They'd both come here with their dad as kids before he and their mom died. Bobby was the closest thing they had to a father figure these days, so Sam felt the guilt weighing on him when the next thing to pass his lips was a lie.

“I'm fine. Honestly. It's not me you need to worry about.” He forced out a smile, and Bobby returned it, grimly.

“Believe me, I've got a whole other bucket of worry for your brother.” Bobby chuckled, standing up and heading back across the floor to his office.

Sam sighed. The truth was that he wasn't okay. The magic was getting easier to use, and perhaps worse was that he was actually enjoying using it. Sure, it felt great to be using it for good, to get dangerous drugs off the streets, but the feeling coursing through him when he called it up… It was like nothing else he'd ever felt, and it scared the crap out of him.

He pulled up some paperwork on his tablet, and got to work.

  


Dean had left his sasquatch brother chatting up the coffee girl and walked quietly into the station, heading straight up the stairs to the lab. Charlie was sitting behind a desk, flicking data around with her fingers on a screen in front of her. She touched another part of the screen, moving something back and forth in a diagram, and a beaker inside a sealed glass box beside her shook around in response.

“Hey, Charlie,” Dean said as he approached.

Charlie spun around in her chair, surprised. Her eyes lit up. “Dean! I wasn't expecting you.” She jumped up to hug him around his middle.  

He drew in a sharp breath as he put his arms around her. “Gently.”

She stepped back quickly, squeaking out, “Sorry! I heard about yesterday. It's your shoulder, right?”

She fussed over him, making him sit down and take off his shirt. Charlie was their physician, nurse, and nanotechnician. She liked to be called a bodyhacker, which Dean thought sounded like some kind of old horror movie, but she was a genius at reprogramming nanotech. And Dean was her favourite guinea pig.

She plugged the jack into his comm interface on the inside of his wrist and started her diagnostics. “So, standard Vamp raid?”

Dean nodded as the machine listed the status of his body systems. “Sam took it all out. Actually, could you check on him after this? He shouldn't be using that freaky power so much.”

“Come on, Dean, he's a big boy. He can take care of himself,” Charlie said, smiling.

“Yeah, I'm not so sure.” The machine flashed. “What’ve we got?”

Charlie scanned through the results and nodded. “Yep, you busted up your collarbone, but your little guys have knitted that back together now. Concussion’s all cleared up, too.

It's just the tissue and muscle they're working on. I can give you something for the pain, though.”

“Thanks.”

Charlie unlocked her store cupboard by tapping her wrist against the lock, and fetched a vial. She busied herself with drawing the solution out of the vial with a syringe, then injected it into Dean's interface port.

“So Sam carried you out, huh?”

Dean glanced up at the guarded tone in her voice. “Well, I don't remember much of it. I was kinda unconscious.” She couldn't know about the Angel, could she? Dean hated lying to Charlie. She nearly always saw through it.

“Just, it's a long way to carry you. No offence, but you're not exactly light. Maybe he used more magic or something.”

Dean found himself extremely uncomfortable with that idea, even though he knew that wasn't what had actually happened.

Charlie put a hand on his forearm. “Don't worry, I'll try to get a look at him, okay? He'll be fine.”

“Thanks, Charlie.” He had a rush of affection for the redhead. What was he doing? If there's anyone he and Sam could trust, it was her. “Hey, what do you know about Angels? I've heard they're not quite human…”

Charlie's eyes widened and her face lit up with delight. “Everything. Well, I've been looking into them for a while, so I know quite a lot.” She grabbed her tablet and pulled up a load of images and files.

“Ooookay, I never picked you for a conspiracy theorist,” Dean said, laughing.

Charlie flinched slightly and closed the tablet down again. “Hey, they’re fascinating. They've got some heavy tech up there. Maybe even full cybernetics, although I’ve never been able to get a good enough scan… “

“They're _robots_?”

“No, they're people, Dean. They just have their body systems enhanced with some extra-awesome tech.”

Sam came up the stairs coffee cup in hand. “Hey, Charlie.”

“Sam! Hey I’d kinda like to take a look at you sometime too…” Charlie gestured to the medtech setup as Dean stood up off the bench.

“Can we do that a little later? Dean and I got some stuff we've got to take care of today.”

Dean took in his pointed look. What had got into him? “All right, let's go then. Catch you later, Charlie.”

“Be safe out there guys.”

Dean followed Sam out of the building, pausing to wave to Rufus and Bobby on the way. He caught up with Sam, panting slightly as he said, “What's up with you, dude? You got somewhere to be I don't know about?”

“Actually, I'm going out with Ruby tonight, so I want to get back in time.”

“Oh, are you? Well isn't that cute. All right, Romeo, we'll do a quick recon downstairs and be back before sundown. That okay?”

  


They drove down to Ground-12, navigating the complex system of ramps that allowed travel between vertical zones. Once they were closer to the ground they headed south for several blocks until they were in Section 12. The light was dim, the air thick with particulates. Plenty of people lived down here with just their breathing filter masks for protection, but many of them couldn't afford the surgery to have a nanotech system fitted, so they didn't have nanites to clean up the toxins they were still breathing. Sam fit his mask to his face before they parked, and Dean followed once his hands were free.

The Kansas School was located in the wide base floors of a scraper, although the very lowest ground floors often flooded so they were closed off. Dim lights lit up the landing space out in front of the school. Dean hated leaving his baby out here, but it was better lit than most other areas nearby. He just had to hope that there were no junkers with violent tendencies around today.

Inside, air filters helped to make breathing safer. Dean removed his breathing mask and smiled at the young people passing by, moving to and from classes. Pride swelled in his chest at what he and Lydia had built here—somewhere for kids to learn to read, write and count in a safe space.

“Dean! Sam!” A voice called across the hall and Dean turned to see one of the teachers, Garth, hurrying over. His usually sunny smile was conspicuously missing today, replaced by a worried frown and panicky eyes.

“Garth? Is something wrong?” Sam asked, obviously as worried as Dean was.

“Quick, come into the gym. There's someone who wants to see you.”

Dean shared a glance with Sam, who gave a small shrug. “What's going on, Garth?” he asked as they walked over to the gym entrance.

“I'm sorry. They arrived a short time ago and refused to leave!”

Dean walked into the gym and took in the small group of people waiting inside. They were all dressed in black, and several of them were holding guns pointed at the floor. One slightly shorter man in a well-tailored suit was standing at the front of the group, eyes narrowed and smirking.

“Demons? What the hell, Garth?!” Dean pulled his weapon out from the back of his jeans and he heard Sam behind him doing the same, but the man at the front put his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Please, put your weapons away. We’re not here to fight. Yet.” The man's clipped accent marked him as a foreigner, but Dean wasn't sure from where.

“Who are you?” Sam spoke up with uncharacteristic bluntness.

The man smirked again. “You can call me Crowley. And I believe you are Sam and Dean Winchester, drug hounds _extraordinaire_.”

Dean blinked a couple of times. He couldn't believe it. “Fergus Crowley? The leader of the Demons?”

“I prefer 'King’, actually.”

Dean's blood rose. He'd been after this asshole for years now—the mob leader who was responsible for most of LA’s drug distribution. He should be shooting him on sight, but he couldn't bring himself to spill blood in this place. How the hell had these guys even got in here? He spoke up, “Well, la-di-fuckin’ da. What the fuck do you want, your majesty?”

The man continued as if he didn't have two guns trained on him. “I've come here to offer you boys a little deal. I think we might be able to help each other out.”

Dean eyed him with distrust. “What kind of a deal?”

“There's a new drug on the market—not one of mine. It's mostly up on the scraper-tops. They're calling it ‘Elysium’.”

“Never heard of it,” Sam said firmly.

“No, like I said, it's new. I'd like to know what it is, and where it's coming from. I know you boys are guns at this sort of thing. Fancy talking a look?”

Dean glanced at Sam. His face was carefully blank, but Dean was willing to bet that his brother was at least as curious as he was about this “Elysium”.

He turned back to Crowley. “What's in it for us?”

“You agree to the deal, and I put a protection order in place around this delightful institution of yours. If you refuse, or you double cross me… who knows what trouble could befall this little community?” He gestured at the gym around them. The sound of children laughing and shouting filtered in from the corridor.

Dean's stomach turned to ice and he tasted bile. “You wouldn't. These are innocent kids!”

Crowley merely shrugged, with a cold smile. “You have no idea what my Demons are capable of. Now, do we have a deal?”

Dean needed to discuss this with Sam. He turned to his brother again, and tilted his head towards the door, raising his eyebrows.

As they started to move away, Crowley called out, “Stay in here while you talk about it, please. I haven't got all day.”

Dean scowled. He kept his voice low. “There's what, five of them, plus the boss. You take the left three, I'll take the rest.” He turned to move back towards the group, but Sam grabbed his arm.

“Dean! We can't have a shoot up! There are kids just outside. Besides, there's probably a lot more than six of them.”

Dean wavered. His brother had a point. He looked back over at the Demons, attempting to make Crowley drop dead with his glare.

“Besides,” Sam continued, “this might be our chance to find out more about the Demons and their operations. If we play nice now, we can take them to the cleaners later.”

Dean looked back at his brother. He was right, dammit. But the school… “I don't like him using this place as collateral.”

“I don't either, but I don't think we have a choice,” Sam said, frowning.

Dean sighed. “All right. But the first sign of a funny feeling from you, and we're outta this deal, right?”

Sam nodded, and they both moved back into the centre of the gym.

“All right, we'll deal. But the protection for this place needs to start right away.”

Crowley smiled grimly and stepped forward, holding out his hand. “Done. Pleasure doing business with you.”

Dean stepped forward and took Crowley’s hand, shaking it firmly but dropping it again as fast as he could.

Crowley smirked again. “You know, in some cultures, deals are sealed with a kiss.”

“You can kiss my ass.”

“Not on the first date, darling.”

Dean couldn't hold in a snort at that. “So, any leads for us?”

“The Elysium was first spotted at a party last Saturday, at the residence of one ‘Balthazar Roche’. I've had a few more reports since then, but it might be as good as any place to start, wouldn't you say?”

Sam spoke up, “And you're sure it's not coming from a Demon supplier?”

“Yes, Samantha. Now, off you pop. I'll expect to hear from you soon. And don’t even think about getting the rest of your colleagues to help. If I hear about official police involvement then our deal will be cut short. Got it?”

The Demons and the Winchesters glared at each other across the hall, then Garth cleared his throat noisily. “Uh, uh, Dean? Could I have a word?”

Dean nodded at the Demons and turned his back, despite every instinct telling him to draw and fire at them instead. He and Sam followed Garth out of the gym and into a small room down the corridor.

Garth spun around, glaring at them. Dean took a step back, worried that Garth was about to take a swing or something, but the teacher's face collapsed into a worried frown.

“Tell me you guys aren't letting the Demons stay here!” he pleaded. “I can't have them here during school hours! The kids…”

Dean cut him off. “Garth, slow down. They said they'd be protecting this place. We'll make sure they stay out of your way long enough for us to sort out this, uh, Elysium thing, then they'll be gone. Okay?”

Garth still didn't look convinced.

Sam spoke up. “We'll be back as soon as we can.”

Garth nodded unhappily as he sat at his desk.

Dean and Sam left him to it, walking back down the corridor towards the gym, but when they got there the room was deserted. They left the building through the front doors, not seeing the Demons again as they refitted their breathers.

As they rounded the corner of the wide gangway at the front of the school, Dean noticed a shadow next to the Impala. It was a person, probably a junker by the state of his clothes, crouched and fiddling with the door lock. Another junker stood back a few feet, watching nervously.

“Hey. Hey!” Dean shouted, running towards the Impala, but as he got closer, one of the junkers turned and pulled a gun on him.

He briefly registered the sound of laser fire, but before he could dive out of the way, someone had jumped in front of him, arm held up to guard their face. A someone in a long, dark coat.

The force of the blast knocked the man backwards into Dean, and they both went down in a heap.

Dean was dimly aware of one of the junkers cursing at the other and Sam chasing them away, but he was preoccupied with the man currently struggling to move off him.

It was him. The Angel.

Dean gasped as he saw sparks flying from the Angel's arm. He dragged his leg out from where it was tangled in the dark grey overcoat and got to his knees so he could see the guy's face. “Hey. You all right?” His voice came out muffled through his breather.

Dean held in another gasp as the Angel fixed him with his eyes—a piercing blue, and in agony. “Hey, it's okay, they're gone. Why'd you go and jump in front of me like that? Did they hit your arm? Why's it sparking like that?” Dean had to force himself to stop babbling.

The Angel just stared at him in pain and confusion for a moment, then Dean’s gaze fell back to the Angel’s arm.

“Dean Winchester?” The Angel's voice was low and gravelly, and sent a jolt right down Dean’s spine.

Dean snapped his eyes back up to meet the Angel's.

The Angel reached out his damaged hand and gripped Dean hard on the shoulder. A sharp pain seared across Dean's skin as electricity sparked along the arm.

“You must… g-go to paradise. There is… work for you. I'm… shut-t-t down—”

He went limp, his hand dropping from Dean's shoulder. He slumped back to the ground. Dean sat there for a moment, not sure what to do, but when he shifted his arm, his shoulder hurt like hell. The leather of his jacket was charred in the shape of a handprint, and the skin felt raw underneath. He looked back down at the Angel. Was he dead?

Sam called, “Dean?”, and Dean looked up to see him running over. “They got away.” Sam's eyes widened as he took in the prone form. “It's the Angel!”

“No shit!” Dean got to his feet, rubbing gingerly at his shoulder. Why was everyone trying to take his arm off lately?

“What happened?”

“Did you see him jump out in front of that laser blast like an idiot? Well it's fried something in him. Charlie was right. Fuckers are cyborgs.”

“Cyborgs? What the—”

“Look Sam, I know about as much as you do, all right? What are we going to do with him? We can't just leave him here.”

“Is he even alive?” Sam crouched down and tried to find a pulse on the non-fried wrist, then moved his fingers to the Angel's neck instead. “He's alive. We should take him to a hospital.”

“No way. We'll get hauled in for questioning if we bring an injured Angel in. We can't take him to the station, either.”

“We'll have to take him home, then,” Sam said, standing up again and looking back to where the junkers had disappeared.

“What? No.”

“Dean, he saved your life! We can get Charlie to come have a look at him. It's the least we can do.”

Dean looked down at the Angel. He was of average height and build, and dressed head to toe in black. His long, dark coat was tangled underneath him, and sparks occasionally still fired up from his arm. He had looked so powerful, as he had gripped Dean's arm. Now, he just looked broken.

Dean sighed. “Okay. But for the record, this is a bad idea.”

He reached down and managed to get his arms under the Angel's shoulders, wincing when lifting made the burnt skin on his shoulder stretch and sting. “Grab his legs.”

They manhandled him over to the Impala, dumping him into the back seat and attempting to make him comfortable for the trip back up into the daylight. The Impala rose up and spiraled around the scrapers towards home.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **LAPD Drug Register**  
>  Compiled by Sam Winchester
> 
>  **Were**  
>  Base: sucrose  
> Appearance: coarse granules. Dissolved on the tongue or in food.  
> Enchantment effects: Increased strength and speed. Appetite increased. No glow effects. Side effects: long-time users report an increased body hair growth.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam turned to look at the Angel lying in the back seat of the car. “Where did he come from?”

“From the Council, isn’t he?” Dean shrugged.

“No, I mean, he just appeared right in front of you when that junker shot at you. Was he following us? It’s a coincidence that we’ve seen him two days in a row, isn’t it?”

Dean paused, considering. “You think he’s following us?”

“I have no idea.”

“He said something to me, before he passed out. Something about Paradise.”

Sam paused, then asked, “Paradise? Like, heaven?”

“Or the coffee company, I dunno. He said they had work for me.”

Sam sat silently after that, and Dean wondered what was going through his head. His own head was certainly full of Topzone parties and Elysium and stupid boss Demons and avenging Angels, but he had no idea what to make of any of it.

They pulled into the landing area near their front door and managed to carry the still unconscious angel inside and dump him on the couch. The dude was heavy—there was no way they were going to be able to get his coat off him.

While Sam went to pick up Charlie from the station, Dean dug out some blankets and draped one over the Angel, pulling it up to his chin.

Dean sat on the armchair nearby, gazing at his sleeping face. There there was something vulnerable about him, at odds with the rough exterior he'd seen so far.

Moving back from the couch, Dean took his flannel off and pulled up the sleeve of his t-shirt to check the skin of his shoulder. Sure enough, a red handprint was showing up on his skin—not enough to blister, but a definite handprint. It stung where he touched it, but he guessed his nanites should clear it up in a day or so.

The Angel didn't look like he was going anywhere in a hurry so Dean pulled his tablet from his back pocket and pulled up a search on _Balthazar Roche_. He had a feeling he'd heard the name before when Crowley had mentioned him, and sure enough, the guy was on numerous watch lists for drugs, suspected fraud and illegal gambling rackets. Basically, the guy ran an underground casino in Hollywood, but no one had been able to catch him in the act well enough to charge him.

Casinos had only been tightly regulated for ten years or so. The Council had cracked down on them, wanting to better control the flow of wealth, alcohol and other restricted substances. Underground operations had sprung up almost immediately, but the Midzone police weren't often involved with busts on the Top. Dean knew where many of them were supposed to be located, though—in Section 5, also known as Hollywood. As a separate area to Downtown LA, the Council had no jurisdiction there. At least this Balthazar would be fairly easy to find.

When he looked back at the Angel, his eyes were open, staring at the ceiling. Dean flinched back in surprise, then sat, quietly watching as the guy’s blue eyes stared, unblinking, for a couple of minutes. Was he rebooting or something? Dean really had no idea what being a cyborg entailed. Eventually, Dean said, quietly, “Hey there. You okay?”

The Angel blinked and turned his head slightly to look at Dean, who caught his breath and just watched, butterflies in his stomach. The Angel’s expression was utterly blank at first, then confusion started to settle in and his eyes left Dean’s to flick around the room.

He tried to say something, but then had to clear his throat and try again. “Where am I?” he growled out, still looking around the small living room.

Dean was suddenly very conscious of their modest apartment. “In Mid-15. My place. And my brother’s. He should be back in a moment. Any moment, actually.”

“Dean Winchester?” The Angel's gaze locked back onto Dean's.

He gulped down nervousness. “Y-yes?”

The Angel opened his mouth to speak, but instead, the door opened and Charlie bounded in, closely followed by Sam.

The reaction was almost instant. The Angel jumped up off the couch and moved so fast to the corner of the room that Dean could have sworn he actually flew, and he crouched there, silver gun in his hand and a snarl on his face.

Dean quickly moved a few steps so he was standing between the Angel on one side, and Sam and Charlie on the other, who were frozen by the door.

“Whoa!” he said as he faced the Angel, his hands up in what he hoped was a calming gesture. “We're all friendly. It's okay.”

Dean heard Charlie give a nervous squeak, but she didn't move. Eventually, the Angel relaxed and lowered his weapon, his squinted eyes still wary.

“Right. Okay. We're fine. Let's all just… sit down,” Dean said, moving back towards the armchair next to the couch. The Angel watched him the whole way, then his eyes flicked to Sam when he started to make for the dining table. Dean turned to look at Charlie. She stood stock-still.

Sam sat at the table, facing the room. “What happened, Dean?”

Dean turned his gaze back to the Angel. He was watching Charlie now, head slightly tilted and a confused line between his brows. If that wasn't the cutest damn thing Dean had ever seen…

Charlie moved towards the table, and the Angel tensed again, but Charlie spoke quietly, “I'm just going to sit down. That's all, okay?”

The Angel stared, then nodded slightly. He remained standing, his damaged arm hanging at his side.

Dean realized where he'd seen such nervousness before—he was like one of the cornered feral cats they still saw now and then in areas of the Groundzone. “Okay. Let's start again. I'm Dean, this is my brother, Sam, and this is our friend, Char—”

“Charlie Bradbury,” the Angel finished in his deep voice.

Charlie gaped. “You know me?”

“Your biometric signature is in the central database.”

Charlie paused, then said, “Oh.”

Dean stepped in again. “And, uh, what do they call you? You're an Angel, right?”

The Angel turned his eyes on Dean, who felt that gaze right down to his toes. “I’m Castiel. Dean Winchester, you need to come with me.”

“W-what? No, I'm not going anywhere. And neither are you until Charlie here takes a look at your arm.”

“No, that's unnecessary. I will return to Paradise for repairs and healing. But Dean, you must accompany me.”

“Paradise… Like the coffee?” Sam asked nervously.

The Angel—no, Castiel—turned his intense gaze to Sam. “Yes, like the coffee.” He turned abruptly back to Dean.

Charlie spoke up, “Uh, Castiel? What kind of work would Paradise Coffee have for Dean?”

Without turning his gaze from Dean, he answered, “That's none of your concern.”

Dean gave a short laugh. “Now look, I've got things I need to do today. If the coffee company wants me for something, they can get in line.”

“My mission is clear. I'm to bring you to Paradise, by force if necessary.” Castiel raised his gun again, but Dean put a hand up to stop him.

“Whoa, that's quite all right, there won't be any force required. Look Cas—gonna call you Cas, okay? You come with me to Hollywood to check out this, uh, Balthazar character, then I’ll go with you to Paradise or whatever. Okay?”

“Uh, Dean?” Sam still sounded nervous. “You sure that's a good idea?”

“Why not? You go on your date with Ruby. Cas here's an Angel, I'm sure he can handle himself. I'm not gonna arrest anyone, just see if I can find out something about this Elysium thing.”

Dean watched Castiel’s face as he mentioned the drug, but the Angel might as well have been made of stone. He either didn't know anything about the drug or he had an excellent poker face.

Instead, he nodded slightly.

“But you gotta let Charlie take a look at your arm.” Dean glanced at Charlie, who was about to burst out of her skin with excitement.

The Angel was silent a moment, his gaze now fixed on Charlie. The way he stared at people was unnerving, and he could see Charlie shifting uncomfortably on her chair.

Eventually he spoke, voice low and wary. “Very well.”

Charlie stood up, stifling another squeak, and approached him slowly. She smiled, saying, “Would you like to sit or lie down?”

Castiel sat on the couch, allowing Charlie to perch beside him and lift his arm. She inspected the burnt area on his arm, damaged metal and exposed wires visible through the ragged hole in his coat sleeve. The Angel flinched as she poked at him, and Dean stood up again abruptly, heading into his room.

“What the hell, Dean? You're just gonna go with him?” Sam followed him, looking furious.

“What else am I supposed to do, Sam? The guy was about to force me at gunpoint! Besides he might be useful backup, especially if he spends most of his time in the Top.” He took his damaged shirt off, replacing it with another t-shirt and a maroon button-down that he hoped looked respectable enough for an underground Hollywood casino.

Sam sighed. “I don't like it.”

Dean eyed him suspiciously, then turned back to digging around in the closet for some chinos he was sure were in there. “Why, you getting some kind of read on it?”

“No, I’m not,” Sam snapped. “I just don't want to let you go out there without backup, that's all. I'm worried.”

“I'll have backup. Are you forgetting how the guy took a blast for me earlier? Whatever these Paradise guys want, they want me protected.”

Sam closed his eyes and nodded. “All right. But keep me updated, okay?”

“Sure,” Dean said. “Now can you piss off and let me get changed?”

Sam retreated and Dean quickly changed his trousers and finger-combed his hair. That would have to do. It wasn't like he was the one going on a date.

He walked back into the living room. Charlie and Castiel were still on the couch, talking quietly.

Dean cleared his throat and Castiel stood up abruptly, turning to look at him. His arm looked like it was moving better, or at least there was less wiring exposed.

Charlie stood up a moment later. “You should be good to go for a little while, but don’t spend long.”

“I understand,” the Angel said, turning to her. “Thank you, Charlie.”

Dean picked up his keys from the table and tossed them to Sam, then moved towards the door. “So how’re we getting up there?”

“I have transport,” Castiel growled, following him.

Dean nodded to Sam and Charlie, then opened the door and stepped out into the dim, hazy afternoon.

  


Sam watched Dean and Castiel leave the apartment, shutting the door behind them. His gut churned with worry, and he hoped it was just concern and not about-to-have-a-vision stomach cramps.

Charlie let out a sudden breath and sunk back down on the couch. “What a day,” she said, laughing.

Sam huffed, muttering, “Tell me about it.” He sat on the armchair, leaning his head back on the chair and sighing.

“A real live Angel. In your living room, Sam! This is amazing. I can’t wait to get back and write it all down.” Charlie was practically bouncing on the seat. “Did you know they’ve got extra neural networks? And his nanite count is off the chart! His eye tech is incredible…”

Sam grinned at her chatter. “I’d just like to know why Paradise wants to see Dean so badly. Castiel seems like a badass, but we don’t know him at all.”

“I’m worried about the tech he’s got in him, Sam. He’s a walking bomb. We need to stay in touch with Dean if he’s going to Hollywood.”

“I’ve already told him that.” He looked at the time and cursed. It was already four thirty. “Listen, if you can hang around while I quickly get cleaned up, I’ll drive you back up to the station.”

“Oh yes, your date! Who is Ruby, anyway? Have I met her?”

“If you buy coffee at the Paradise cart on the bridge just outside the station, then you probably have.”

Charlie squealed. “The tiny brunette? She has such a pretty smile! Ooh, you'll have to tell me all about it later!”

“Okay, okay,” Sam laughed. “I'll go get ready.”

Sam quickly washed his face and brushed his teeth, wondering how far this date was likely to go, and if he should change. But if they didn't leave now he was going to be late. He ran his fingers through his hair and went to take Charlie back to work.

  


Dean eyed the elevator with distrust. The sleek chrome and glass structure ran up the inside of an atrium running through the centre of one of the section 10 scrapers. Access to the express elevators to the Topzone were strictly controlled, usually restricted to those who worked up Top but lived in the Midzone levels.

He would have been a lot happier if it had been an ordinary enclosed elevator, even if the idea of dangling in a small metal box from a long cable didn't sound like a death sentence in the first place. But no, this one happened to have grimy glass walls, which allowed him to see across the atrium to the cafes and businesses lining the other side.

Castiel scanned his wrist on the sensor, then fiddled with the controls and got Dean to scan his. “You now have access to the lift system.”

“Uh, thanks.” The Angel had barely said two words since they’d left Dean and Sam’s place and driven across to Mid-10 in Castiel’s Dodge, so Dean was caught off-guard by his sudden words. He eyed the other passengers around them. There weren't many people heading up at this time of day, but those who were wore neat uniforms or suits—probably staff at the dozens of entertainment venues Dean knew were around this area.

The doors closed and with a lurch, the elevator moved upwards. Dean jumped and, much to his embarrassment, grabbed Castiel's arm. The Angel just looked sideways at him, eyebrow raised, and the look sent a frisson down Dean's spine. He removed his hand once he'd got his feet under him, his face flaming. _Jesus Christ, man, get a grip._

Rather than look out the glass, Dean focused his attention on an advertisement on a screen high on one of the elevator’s walls. “Mystic Meg” was winking at him, her saucy grin and alluring curls promising “a wealth of good fortune”, whatever that meant. As her comm number flashed below the image, he wondered if Mystic Meg could have foreseen the shit-fight that his life had become over the last few days. Hell, most of his life he’d felt like fate had been kicking him in the nuts over and over. He eyed the man standing beside him, and wondered what fresh round of fuckery he was in for this time, between the Demons and the Angels.

As the elevator rose, so did the light, becoming clearer and brighter. The view across the atrium became balconies with numbered doors along them—Dean supposed this was a residential tower. The elevator started to slow and Dean could see something that he hadn't seen for many years—a blue sky.

When Dean had been a kid, and Sam even younger, their dad had brought them up here now and then on his rare days off. They had marvelled at the clear air, the blue of the sky and the clouds that looked like puffy pillows. He had taken them to one of the lookouts down in the buildings closer to the coast, where waves washed at the feet of the scrapers far below, and the buildings beyond the wind shredders were abandoned and crumbling. He’d explained that the shredders ringing the city between the scrapers protected the Topzone from high winds, and they also captured the water from sea breezes for the city to drink, as well as generating electricity. Dean knew now that there were also some unofficial desalination plants down near the ground, for those that didn’t have access to Council water. It had fascinated Sam to learn where their resources came from, but Dean had been a few years older and more interested in watching the beautiful people of the Topzone going about their business.

As Castiel and Dean stepped out of the elevator and joined a flow of people moving down a walkway towards the outside of the scraper, Dean found himself watching the crowds once again. The Topzoners liked to show off their beauty and style, with fashions strange and wonderful. Dean knew that for many of them, their features had been re-engineered by expensive surgery, but to his teenaged self, their beauty had seemed otherworldly.

They stepped out onto a wide gangway and Dean had to hold his hand up to shield his eyes. The sun was shining. He closed his eyes and stood still for a moment, letting the warm rays fall on his face, when he was shoved roughly from behind by someone. A voice called out, “excuse me,” but he didn't see who it was. By the time he had turned back around, the Angel was nowhere to be seen.

He scanned the crowd in front of him as he was swept along, looking for a shock of dark hair above the crowd. The sun sparked painfully off every surface. How could he have lost the guy so easily? And why the fuck was every asshole wearing some shiny item of clothing? He swallowed down a rising panicky sensation and looked around again until he saw a Metro sign. Perhaps he could find his way to Balthazar‘s without Castiel. He felt an odd disappointment that the Angel was supposed to be protecting him, but he’d lost him so easily.

He started to cut across the flow of foot traffic to get to the Metro station entrance. He couldn’t see them, but the Metro lines ran just under this level, whizzing around millimetres above their tracks, levitating on magnets. Dean didn’t pretend to know the science behind them, but it felt like every fucking thing in this city was flying above something else. Not the sort of place to be scared of heights.

The crowd shoved him from every direction, but just as he managed to get to the door of the Metro, a hand shot out and grabbed his arm, roughly pulling him to one side of the doorway. He shouted in surprise, but when he looked around to see who had grabbed him, he was met with bright blue eyes staring into his own, his face a scant inch away from Castiel’s.

The Angel glared at him. “Don’t fall behind.”

“You ran off!” Dean retorted, but Castiel was already heading away from him towards the escalators down to the Metro platform.

The Midzone didn’t have anything like this. Most down there got around in their cars or bikes, or walked if they were close by. Dean looked out beyond the glass wall of the station and realized that up here in the sunlight, Dean could see very few cars. Mostly the boulevards around each scraper were for pedestrians, or sometimes had dedicated lanes for one-person vehicles such as bikes or boards, hovering along above the pavements. Trees and flowers were also everywhere, on rooftops and along the walkways.

A maglev train pulled into the station, the long tube yet another beautiful creation of silver metals and glass.

Castiel grabbed Dean again and pulled him towards the edge of the platform, until Dean protested. “Okay, I’m following, jeez!”

They boarded the train and stood, awkwardly pressed together among the commuters. Dean was uncomfortably aware of all the points where his body was touching Castiel—his arm, one hip, the side of his leg—and a steady warmth was creeping up his neck. When he risked a glance at Castiel, he was staring at Dean, blue eyes locked on him. Dean looked away again, uncomfortable at the visceral reaction the Angel's gaze was having on him.

The train moved off with a faint whine and barely a wobble, but Dean still swayed into the people around him. The train flew across the city, making a few more stops among the scraper-tops, the passengers thinning out.

They passed out of Downtown LA and into the narrow strip of inhabited city along the elevated areas around Silver Lake. The city to the east was an empty concrete jungle, prone to salt water flooding. The tides did not reach the western parts of the city, but what had long ago been suburbia was the junkers playground. Dean knew that most people had fled Downtown to be safe from the gangs, and had never left. Dean himself had never been this far away from the city before, and he stared out of the train windows, soaking it all in.

At the edge of Hollywood, the train passed through a tall steel fence, topped with sharp, electrified wire. Section 5 was tightly controlled and protected against junkers and other rogues.

They left the train at Holly station and Dean found himself standing on the actual ground—a concrete road between buildings of much lower stature than those downtown. As they walked away from the station, the tall buildings gave way to sprawling houses, with pretty gardens and large trees blocking the sky instead of scrapers.

Dean felt encased in a world of green. He remembered Lydia telling him that before the flooding, LA had once been a hub of the entertainment industry, with this section being where the wealthy stars lived. These days the industry had scaled back, but this area away from the bustling city centre was still populated by the richest of citizens and usually their extended families.

Balthazar Roche’s house was no exception—huge, spotless white stucco, protected by a high, spike-topped steel fence.

At the imposing gate, Dean turned to Castiel. “I'm not sure if my credentials are going to get us in here…” He trailed off as Castiel swiped his wrist across the scanner and the gate opened with a click. Dean blinked in surprise as he followed Cas through. “You got a free pass to everywhere or something?”

Castiel muttered, “Something like that,” and headed towards the open front doors. Dean followed, taking in the huge foyer as they walked inside. Stairs up to the second level flanked the sides of the room, and a large chandelier hung glittering from the high ceiling. People were wandering in and out of hallways to each side of the foyer, some in perfectly tailored dark suits, others in the more colorful fashions of the younger crowd.

Castiel grabbed Dean's arm and yanked him out of the way of a man carrying a large tray of glasses. Dean yelped and grabbed his shoulder, rubbing it. The nanites had done most of the healing work now but it was still tender, especially the burn on his shoulder.

Castiel peered at him, tilting his head. “You're hurt.”

“Yeah, that's from earlier. And yesterday, from when you pulled me out. Guess we're even now, huh?”

Castiel blinked. “That was earlier today, Dean, not yesterday.”

“Uh, no, you pulled me out of a drug bust yesterday. The assholes shot me in the back, remember?”

Castiel looked confused, but when he opened his mouth to say something, a man clapped him on the back, saying loudly, “Cassie! Didn't  expect to see you here, mate!”

Dean stared. The man was tall, taller than he was, even. He appeared to be dressed head to toe in a suit made of gold foil, and his face was heavily made-up in Kohl and gold eye-liner. He gave Dean a predatory once-over.

“Hello, Balthazar,” Castiel said, as though he had a bad taste in his mouth.

Dean gaped between the two of them. “Wait, you… you know each other?”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **LAPD Drug Register**  
>  Compiled by Sam Winchester
> 
>  **Djinn**  
>  Base: sucrose  
> Appearance: bright blue powder, can be inhaled or taken orally (effect is decreased slightly when dissolved in alcohol)   
> Enchantment effects: induces a dream-like state. Hallucinations often involve deep subconscious wishes and desires. No known Side effects: User may suffer extreme depression once the effects wear off. If a user remains under the influence for an extended time, malnourishment and eventually death may occur.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam wandered down to the bridge from the station, hoping that Charlie had gone inside and wasn't watching him. As he drew near to the coffee cart, he smiled at Ruby as he caught her eye. She gave him an appraising look up and down past the customer she was serving that shot fireworks up his spine, and he was sure his face was flaming by the time she held up a hand for him to wait. He leaned on the safety fence along the edge of the bridge and watched her small form as she finished making the order and cleaned up the machines.

Finally, she flicked a switch somewhere behind the cart and the halo above it blinked out, followed by the fairylights on the cart itself. Ruby took off the apron and sauntered over, smiling.

Sam stood up straight from his slouch, pulse thrumming in his throat. There was an almost predatory look in her eye that was making whatever blood wasn't in his cheeks rush rapidly downward.

“Hi, Sam,” she said as she reached him, grabbing the front of his coat and pulling him down to kiss his cheek.

“H-hey. How was work?” Sam stammered. _How was work? Smooth._

Ruby grinned. “I stand around outdoors in the haze all day, serving ungrateful people their drug of choice. It is what it is.” She shrugged. “Can we go find food? I'm starved.”

“Sure! I thought we could go down to the night market on Spring Street?”

“Sounds great.”

She put her hand in Sam's, and his heart nearly stopped. He held it carefully, like it was made of glass, and gave her a warm smile.

They set off down the block, dropping a couple of levels via stairs and escalators. The landscape of the Midzone was a network of bridges and gangways, with the main vehicular traffic thoroughfares above or below them. It was often a lot easier to get around on foot than to try to find parking for a car or bike, and it was only a few minutes before Sam and Ruby found themselves at the night market.

A wide platform was suspended between two scrapers, over the top of the traffic lanes on mid-Spring street. Each weekend, food stalls were set up out the front of existing shops, to allow diners to eat outside. Colored lights were strung above the walkway, casting a bright glow on the crowds below.

Sam was still nervous as they wandered along, looking at the food on offer. Ruby was at ease, though, and she pulled him over to a bar to order tall glasses of beer. They sat down at a tiny table away from the main walkway, knees knocking together.

“So what do you like to do when you're not making coffee?” Sam asked, immediately regretting it. Was he insulting her by belittling her job? Why did she make him turn into such a teenager?

“Oh, this and that,” Ruby said. “I actually work another job on the weekends.”

“You do?” Sam asked. It wasn't that unusual for Midzoners to work more than one job, especially if they wanted to literally move up.

“Yeah, it's up in the Topzone, actually.”

“Oh, really? What sort of work is it?” He couldn't help but be impressed by that—it was hard to snag a job up top if you were from below.

Ruby looked away, her cheeks pinking up a little. Was she _embarrassed_? Sam had a mild panic attack as he thought he'd asked too many questions. What could it be? “You don’t have to tell me, it's fine,” Sam assured her, patting her on the arm. Christ, there were a whole host of professions he hoped she wasn't involved in.

Ruby smiled at him. “So you and your brother work together?”

“Yeah. We share a place, too, in mid-15. Our parents died in an accident about… six years ago now? I was still a minor at the time so we had to live together, and we just… never stopped.”

Ruby laughed playfully again. “I think it’s sweet that you live together. But doesn’t it get a bit much with the working together as well?”

“What? No,” Sam said, confused. He had never considered not working with Dean. It had always been the two of them together, and even when they fought, they stuck together like glue.

“Okay. I’m surprised he let you out tonight,” she said with a smirk.

He laughed. “No, we’re allowed to have separate alone time.”

Ruby laughed again, louder this time, and Sam thought it was like bells ringing. He couldn't help but smile. It had been a while since he'd seen actual sunshine, but he thought her smile must be similar.

“I’m glad. I get you all to myself.” She reached over, grabbed his shirt and to his utter surprise, planted a kiss on his lips.

It was over too quickly, and although Sam’s face was flaming, he felt like sparks were running over his skin.

They ordered more drinks and Ruby told him all about the strange customers she got visiting her cart. He couldn't really tell her any work-related stories in return, but he told her about Dean and his strange addiction to medical procedural serials. He was finding it easier to talk as he relaxed.

After they were done with another round of drinks, Ruby stood up, smiling. “Come on,” she said, “I wanna show you something.”

Sam looked up at her, his head a little fuzzy from the beer.

“Sam! Come on!” she laughed.

He jumped up and followed her, still holding her hand, the effects of the alcohol giving everything a slightly dull, blurry edge, but his heart raced as he considered where she might be taking him.

Ruby led him out of the night market and east a block, then down a couple of levels to a quiet row of apartments. She swiped the lock with her comm and it opened with a clunk. She smiled up at Sam and led him inside, opening a door on the left of the corridor with a silver 207 on it.

She had brought him home. Sam wondered briefly whether he wanted to do this on a first date, but Ruby pulled him inside and shut the door behind him before he could back out. The apartment was small, but neat, the living room with standard couches and flat screen on one wall. An old-fashioned sideboard stood on one side of the room, and Ruby went over to it to retrieve glasses and a bottle of what looked like bourbon. “Drink?” she asked, waving the bottle at Sam.

He swallowed his apprehension. “Sure, thanks, ” he said, hoping he didn't sound nervous, then wandered over to one wall to look at some framed photos. A younger Ruby smiled in one of them, her arm around a shorter boy with the same dark hair and eyes. Another held two older women, smiling at something out of the shot.

“My family. Those are my moms. My little brother.” Ruby pointed to each photo, a sad look in her eye. “They’re gone now. All gone.” She swayed slightly in place, her eyes unfocused.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said, but she shook her head.

“Don’t be sorry. It was a long time ago. Come on.” She handed him a glass of whisky and motioned to the couch.

Sam sat on the two-seater arranged in front of the screen, and Ruby grabbed her purse and joined him, perching at the other end. She dug around in the bag, then pulled a small packet out, holding it up for Sam to see. The plastic packet contained a number of small, featureless white tablets.

Sam eyed it suspiciously. “What is it?”

“It’s fine, don’t worry! It’s a new thing. They call it ‘Elysium’.”

Sam sat straight upright, suddenly laser-focused. This was it! How had Ruby got a hold of it? He wasn’t detecting any enchantment on the tablet, but with some drugs it was hard to detect until he touched it. Maybe it was a variant of Djinn, or perhaps Qareen.

Ruby continued, “No side effects, no violence, no downer. Just fun. Try it.”

She took one pill out and carefully placed it in Sam’s hand, then fished out another for herself. “Jus’ don’t arrest me, kay?” she said, swallowing the tablet down with a gulp of whisky.

Sam hefted the pill. He couldn’t detect anything magical on it—it felt like a basic sugar tablet. He looked at Ruby, who had sat back in her chair, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. It was obviously affecting her already. Could it contain some kind of chemical instead? He knew he should probably stash it in his pocket, take it to Charlie to see what she would make of it, but then Ruby dragged herself across the couch, lifting her thigh to straddle his lap. She gripped his hand holding the tablet and brought it to his mouth. _Oh well, perhaps this once. I’m here with a beautiful girl, I don’t have to work tomorrow, and…_  The thought trailed off as the sugar tablet dissolved on his tongue and he swallowed.

Ruby was glowing. He gaped at the bright aura around her, and when he ran a hand down her bare arm, it left a trail of purple sparks in its wake.

Stars. Stars exploded behind his eyes. He grabbed Ruby’s face and kissed her, roughly. He was floating, somewhere out between the scrapers, but then he was pushing Ruby up against a wall, her tongue in his mouth and his leg between hers. In the brief moments where he was aware of the apartment, between bouts of flying somewhere in a starfield, he saw his fingers trailing over her skin, leaving sparkling electricity and cool fire. Ruby gasped and called his name, and he struggled out of his clothes before helping her with hers, licking a trail of ice along her collar bone.

Somehow they struggled into another room and onto a soft bed, and then Sam was lost. Every touch of warm skin was electricity, and every bite or caress created sparks. They moved together and the earth shattered around them, and afterwards, Sam wrapped Ruby up in his arms and blissfully floated.

He vaguely heard Ruby whisper, between each kiss she pressed into his skin, “I knew it. I knew you were a witch.”

“Not a witch,” he murmured, barely able to move his lips.

“Oh yes. Yes you are.” Ruby kissed his cheek and smiled.

  


Dean looked between Castiel and Balthazar in disbelief.

The man in the golden suit grinned, putting his arm around the Angel and squeezing. “Yeah, Cassie and me go way back, don’t we?”

Castiel looked intensely uncomfortable, frowning at Balthazar. “Yes. We used to be in the same garrison.”

Dean blinked at Balthazar. “You’re an Angel?”

“‘Used to be’ being the operative phrase, here. I’m no longer part of the team, as it were. However, happy to allow old friends into my humble pad.”

Castiel removed Balthazar’s arm from around his back and stepped closer to Dean. “Balthazar, I wish I could say it’s nice to see you. This is Dean Winchester, LAPD. He has some questions for you.”

“Thanks, Cas, but I can do my own introductions,” Dean murmured to Cas, stepping forward and holding his hand out for Balthazar to shake.

The man looked Dean up and down appraisingly as he shook his hand. “He’s a pretty one, Cassie. Where’d you dredge him up from?”

Dean gave an uncertain laugh, stepping back again. Was this guy serious? Asshole. “Look, I’m not here to bust anyone for anything. I’m just after some information you might be able to help me out with.” When Balthazar didn’t say anything, just continued smirking, Dean continued. “We’ve been led to believe that you might know something about a new narcotic in circulation, named ‘Elysium’.”

At this, Balthazar did react, drawing a hissing breath in through his teeth. “I might know something about it. But…” he said, leaning in close to Dean and winking at him. “What’s in it for me?”

Dean repressed a shudder. “I keep quiet about your operation here. It’s not in my jurisdiction anyway. I don't give a shit about Topzone fat cats and their playpens.” He kept his face as deadpan as he could while pushing down an urge to throat-punch the guy.

Balthazar leaned back, nodding, then turned his gaze to Castiel. “What about you, then, Cassie? Ready to rat me out as soon as you get back to Paradise?”

Dean watched Castiel as he sneered at Balthazar. “No. I have no interest in your illegal activities, Balthazar.” Dean wondered what had gone on between the two of them, and how exactly one became an ex-Angel.

Balthazar eyed Castiel speculatively. “So what exactly are you doing here, then?”

Castiel looked uncomfortable again. “That’s none of your concern. Tell Dean what he wants to know and we’ll be on our way.”

Balthazar nodded. “Still toeing the line, eh? Remember that, when it comes to the crunch, Dean. Angels are mindless soldiers, nothing more. Anyway, that’s by the by.” He threw a hand in the air and spun around, beckoning to them. “Come, let’s speak somewhere a little quieter.”

Dean looked at Cas to see if they should follow, and Cas nodded slightly. Dean turned to follow, Cas close behind him.

They entered a lounge area with enormous windows overlooking the cityscape. The Downtown area was a blaze of light in the distance, while the rest of the view to the southwest was drab and empty, the ocean encroaching over the city’s rotting skeleton. The setting sun turned the sky into a blaze of orange.

Dean walked over to the window, mesmerized by the huge, empty spaces. His city was once so huge, so much bigger than the tiny world they occupied now.

“Come and talk to Balthazar.”

Dean jumped at the quiet voice, and turned to see Castiel standing by him, staring intently at him. “Sorry buddy, just admiring the view. Our city is beautiful when you look from a distance, don’t you think?”

Castiel turned and looked out, the last sunlight making sparks reflect off his eyes. Dean wondered whether these were the Angel’s real features or if they had been surgically altered. Because, man, he was a lucky bastard if he was born like that, with almost ethereal beauty.

As Dean watched, something _moved_ inside the Angel’s eye. Dean flinched back slightly, and turned quickly to hide his shock, unsettled by the sudden reminder that his companion wasn’t all human. He moved over to the corner where Balthazar had settled on some plush couches, pouring something into two glasses. When he glanced back, Cas was still standing near the window, still as a statue. Dean wondered what he saw—if he was even looking at the same view.

He sat on a couch near Balthazar, taking a proffered glass of whisky. He inhaled and was impressed by the delicious aroma. Not many could afford real distilled alcohol these days, rather than the cheaper, synthesized kind.

“So how did you two meet?” Balthazar said, with a mocking grin.

Dean leveled another withering look at him. “Long story. Tell me about Elysium.”

“All right, all right. Yes, I know it. Only new this last week or so. It’s a very clean one. No violence, weird trances or side effects. It’s a slightly lesser euphoria than your other standard gunk like Vamp or Siren, but it’s safe, so it’s attractive, you know?”

“So you’ve had it in here?” Dean took a sip of the whisky and closed his eyes briefly, savouring the taste on his tongue. When he opened his eyes again, Castiel had rejoined them and was sitting on the couch close to Dean.

“Yes. Wouldn’t touch the stuff myself, of course. But I believe it’s here each night. Stick around, you might find some.”

“We just might. Where is it coming from?” Dean might be pushing his luck here. The proprietor might not like to give up the secrets of his clientele.

“Well, that's the question, isn't it? I haven't sourced any of the stuff directly myself, although I might be able to track down a name. It might cost you extra.”

Dean glanced at Cas, who was frowning intently at Balthazar. He looked back to the ex-Angel. “Buddy, I think you'll find that we're holding all the cards, here. Find us a name, or we’ll bring the hordes of Angels down on you.” He hoped that was actually a thing. On second thought, perhaps threatening an ex-Angel with an Angel horde wasn’t a great idea…

“Fine, I’ll play. I don’t know for sure where it’s coming from, but there is one name associated with new, innovative gear. It’s all produced by someone called Lilith.”

“The witch, Lilith?” Dean asked, aghast. There was only one Lilith he’d ever crossed paths with. He tried to breathe normally, but his heart was racing at the news.

Balthazar and Castiel were both looking at him with mirrored expressions, curiously, one eyebrow raised. Balthazar said, “No idea, I only know the name. But I’ll ask around. I’ll pass on what I find out, yes?”

“Okay. But if I don’t hear from you in a few days, we’re coming back here to beat some heads.” Dean couldn’t help but think of the kids in the corridors at the Groundzone school, surrounded by Demons. Balthazar was his only lead so far. He had to have something.

“Sure. For now, I’ve got a casino to run. Please, make yourselves at home. The bar is down the stairs. I’ll be in touch.” Balthazar stood up, making his way back across the lounge.

Dean sat back in the couch, staring at the ceiling for a moment. “That actually went better than I expected. So, he was an Angel?”

Castiel replied calmly. “Yes.”

Dean turned his head to look at him. “Okay, Cas, you’re gonna have to give me more than that. We’ve probably got a couple of hours before the crowds get bigger down there. Talk to me. Tell me about being an Angel.”

Castiel hesitated, then answered, “I’m not really supposed to—”

“I think we’re breaking a few rules already, wouldn’t you say?” Dean interrupted.

Castiel paused again. “Okay. Well, I’m part of an elite strike force, carrying out special missions for the Council. I report to Paradise Corp—I guess you could call it home.”

“Hang on, so Paradise doesn’t just do coffee, they do security, too?”

“They do all sorts of things. The coffee business is their most publicly visible, but apart from the Angel garrisons, they control much of the consumables trade in the Top and Midzones, and the flow of restricted material through all sections of the city.”

“But what about you? Were you born here in LA? Got any family? And just how much tech are you carrying in there?” Dean gestured to Castiel’s head as he asked that last question.

Castiel looked flustered at the questioning. “I… I don’t know. My childhood has been removed from my memory. I’ve always lived in Paradise HQ. As for my tech, that’s, uh…”

Oops, had he just crossed some personal question line? He tried to hide his burning curiosity. “Sorry. Don’t answer if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No, I just… No one has ever asked me to list it before. I have improved optical sensors and fine wiring to the part of my brain dealing with optical processing. I have a direct data connection with the networks so I am able to send and receive information without a comm unit.” He held up his bare wrist, a glimpse of silver plating visible inside his sleeve. “I also have other improved systems. I don’t need to eat or sleep much.”

Dean nodded. “That’s handy. So do they make a habit of wiping your memory?” He rubbed at his collarbone, remembering Cas’ confusion earlier.

Castiel turned his eyes on Dean, and a look of panic and uncertainty flashed across his face. He looked away again and took a breath before replying. “Sometimes there are days… when I lose periods of time. I don’t know that I have until I see something that reminds me, but I can’t think what it reminds me of. It’s frustrating.”

Dean reached out a hand to comfort him, but pulled it back before it reached Cas’ arm. He wasn’t sure how Cas might react to being touched. He tried words instead. “I’m sorry. Why would they do that to you?”

Castiel didn’t answer, just sat, staring at the patterned carpet.

Dean’s heart broke for him. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have no family, or to know they were out there but not remember them. These perfect, brainwashed soldiers must be seriously messed up. He tried an upbeat approach. “But hey, if you see things that look familiar, maybe that means their process isn’t perfect, you know? Like things slip through the cracks, maybe.”

Castiel processed this for a moment, then looked back to Dean again. Dean wished he would stop doing that. Every time the blue eyes landed on him, he had to catch his breath.

“Dean, how do you know the witch, Lilith?”

Dean tipped back his whisky glass and swallowed the dregs. He poured another. “You want some of this?” he asked, looking up at Castiel.

“Alcohol has no effect on me.”

“Seriously? That sucks.”

“I have no desire to become intoxicated.”

Dean snorted and sat back in the couch again. So, Lilith. How much did he need to reveal? It wasn't illegal to be able to use magic, but it might flag Sam on some list.

“A few years ago, my brother and I were down in the Groundzone, working a case. We were on the trail of some particularly nasty Djinn that was putting people in comas. It was just basic DHA, but the magic was stronger than anything we'd seen.”

He sat forward, looking at Castiel. The Angel was gazing out the window again, where the lights of the city were sparkling through the haze. It was nearly completely dark now, the sky a dull indigo. No stars were visible.

“We walked in as some kind of deal was going down, or perhaps it was a setup and a trap, we never worked it out. But before we got away, Lilith put some kind of curse on Sam. Since then, he’s been having these… visions. They often come true. Eventually he worked out that he could feel the enchantment on things—seized drugs, mainly. He found a ritual that he uses to break the enchantment, so that’s what we do now—sneak in, ruin their stuff, then try to nab as many of them as we can.”

When Castiel didn’t say anything in response, Dean looked over at him again. The Angel was looking at him thoughtfully. “Dean, there’s no curse that could give your brother the ability to sense or perform magic. He must have been sensitive his whole life. Whatever Lilith cast at him may have triggered or awoken talent in him.”

“No, he had never done anything like this before. She did something, I’m sure of it. It was just after we’d had his nanotech surgery. We nearly lost him—without that he might not have made it. Damn near broke us all, with the medical expenses on top, even with mine and Lydia's combined income, and the school sucking all the finances.” He trailed off, as his memories of that time came rushing back. It had been the hardest year, but thank God Sam had come out of it okay. Well, mostly okay.

“Lydia?” Cas asked gently.

Dean took a short breath, then blew it out again, feeling oddly guilty that he hadn't actually been thinking of Lydia at all. He looked out towards the window, confused. “My wife. I'm sure you can look up what happened to her in your fancy database.”

Castiel sat for a moment in uncomfortable silence, then he blessedly changed the subject. “Lilith is known to Paradise as well. She’s a very powerful witch—it would be dangerous to go after her without proper backup.”

Dean sighed and stood up, stretching his arms above his head. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Let’s go see if we can find anything downstairs.”

As they moved out of the lounge and walked across the foyer, they saw a closed door beneath the staircase, guarded by a large security guard. He nodded and allowed them to pass through, then down a tight, dark staircase, another door opened into the busy main casino floor.

In the dim lighting, Dean could make out a large room—larger than he had expected under the house. A band was playing, just two people on keyboards, their singing overpowered by the noise of the crowd. Gaming tables dominated the centre of the space, with patrons playing cards or throwing dice. A long bar with brightly lit bottles was lined up against the far wall.

He nudged Cas with his elbow and headed towards the bar, but when he got there and glanced around, the Angel was nowhere to be seen. Okay, looked like they were splitting up. He ordered a beer and drank it slowly, casting his eye over the crowd.

In one dark corner of the bar, a small group of wealthy-looking Topzoners were lounging. Dean clearly saw one of the guys pop a small white tablet into a girl’s mouth and watch, grinning as she slumped back, boneless and with a blissed-out smile on her face.

Yahtzee. Dean headed towards the group. He sat down next to one of the guys and leaned into him, pretending to be a little drunk.

“Hey. How you doin’.”

The guy gave him a slow, groggy glance, then did a full double-take. “Hey, man. How's your night going?” He shuffled closer to Dean, who had to fight a cringe at the guy's fluoro-orange lipstick. Kids these days…

“Good, although I'm hoping it's about to be better. You guys got some of that new Elysium stuff?” Dean raised his eyebrows, trying for his best come-hither glance.

“Sure! You want some? It's awesome, man!  Hey Jack, hit this dude with one of those!”

One of the girls in the group pulled a small bottle out of her bag, tipped a few small, white pills onto her hand then passed one to Dean's new friend.

He handed it over with mock-solemnity. “Just one, alright? They're cheap as fuck, but don't overdose.” He laughed loudly.

Dean laughed as well, hating the charade. He eyed the innocuous tablet in his palm. Didn't look like much. Most of the other drugs they came across came in gimmicky candy form, like the love heart candies of Siren, or the bright blue powder of Djinn that you could snort, old-style.

When the guy had calmed down, he leaned in again and asked, “So where might I find some more of this, cheap?”

Orange-lips attempted to look coy. “Come on, I'm not giving away secrets just like that…” He leaned closer to Dean, licking his lips.

Dean heard the distinctive whine of a laser powering up just behind him, even over the noise of the room. He froze, but then heard a voice growl, “Tell him where you got it, Aaron Bass.”

He turned to see Castiel crouching down behind them, gun pressed against the back of Orange-Lips’ neck. The guy was backing away from Dean now, eyes wide. The rest of his friends hadn't even noticed.

“Just some guy, all right? Selling ‘em in the street d-down in mid-10. We d-didn't buy many —you can have ‘em all! Jack, give ‘em the rest!”

By the time Jack had looked over again, the gun was gone and Cas had stepped back into a shadow.

Dean put the Elysium carefully in the breast pocket of his shirt and patted it. “We'll just take the one for now, thanks. You enjoy your evening.”

He gave the terrified man a wink and stood up, smiling. He turned and saw Cas stepping out from nowhere by the wall. He headed towards the door and Cas met him there.

“What the hell, Cas?” he hissed as they met and headed up the stairs. “You can't just bust it out in a crowded place like this!”

“You got what you were after, didn't you?” Cas grumbled, scowling.

“Yeah but if that dude complains, Balthazar isn't going to be so friendly, is he? How'd you know that guy's name, anyway?”

“His biometrics are in the database. He won't complain. He's terrified we're going to turn him in.”

Dean stopped in the middle of the foyer and stared at Castiel. “What, you're reading minds, now?”

“No, I can't do that.”

Dean let out a breath of relief. If the Angel had heard how aroused he'd been when he'd put the gun to that guy's neck… Fuck. What was wrong with him?

When they were back out in the street, Dean stopped and turned. “Look, Cas, I should really get this shit down to Charlie. Well actually, I should get it to Crowley, but seriously, fuck that guy. Can we go to Paradise tomorrow? I could really use a few hours of sleep.” Christ, it had been a long day.

Castiel's frown deepened. “Dean, my mission is to—”

“Yeah, yeah, bring me to Paradise. Can't it wait just a few hours?”

Castiel considered for a moment. “Very well. I'll escort you back to the city.”

“Nah, man, you don’t need to—” Dean started, but Castiel was already stomping off back towards the station, his dark coat blending into the shadows between the lamps. Dean wouldn’t have been surprised to see a small thundercloud above the Angel’s head. He hurried to catch up.

  


Castiel left Dean at the elevator, only saying, “I'll come for you tomorrow,” and ignoring Dean's attempts to find out what was wrong.

The truth was, Castiel had no idea what was wrong with him. His mind was spinning, a whirlwind of the Elysium problem, his frustration with his mission, and over it all a terrible confusion over Dean. The mission was clear —bring Dean to Paradise, unharmed, but by any means.

But when he was with Dean, he felt drawn to protect him. He didn't know what Paradise had planned for him, but he was reasonably sure it wasn't good. He couldn't resist his mission for much longer, but he could do everything to protect the man when they eventually went there.

Castiel walked towards the Paradise building. He should probably go in there to get his arm seen to, or perhaps to have a tech check his regulator systems. He'd been getting warnings on and off all day, both from his physical monitors of heartbeat and breathing, and his emotional regulator. Something was malfunctioning, but he was reluctant to let anyone in Paradise look at him. They'd just send him back to reconditioning, and he wasn't ready to forget Dean—not yet.

The biggest spike in his systems were when Dean had mentioned his wife, but they had dulled into sadness when he’d quickly accessed the database to see the reports of her death in the Groundzone a few years ago. That explained why the Winchesters kept ending up down there—he’d cursed them when he’d had to follow them earlier in the day. He had been shocked that he’d felt so sad for Dean after reading about Lydia, though. His regulators were definitely fritzed.

He stopped next to a several-story poster advertising the predictive genius of Mystic Meg, and considered his options. He should go back to Paradise, he really should. They'd be expecting him. But with a grim shake of his head, he dismissed the warnings that were blinking on the edge of his vision. He decided, for the first time, not to go home to Paradise. He turned, and walked back in the direction of the elevator to the Midzone, his steps lighter.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **LAPD Drug Register**  
>  Compiled by Sam Winchester
> 
>  **Qareen**  
>  Base: sucrose  
> Appearance: fine powdered sucrose, colored red  
> Enchantment effects: Induces a deep euphoric coma, lasting for between 2-12 hours. Reports of up to 24 hours. Similar to djinn, often taken in a ritualistic setting to reveal a deepest, darkest desire.  
> Side effects: a few cases where the body has shut down completely while under the influence, resulting in death.


	5. Chapter 5

The sun was too bright. It burned into Aaron’s eyes, making them water uncomfortably. He stumbled along the sidewalk on his way home from the casino, thankful that it was Sunday and he wasn't on his way to work right now.

A sudden stabbing pain behind his right eye made him clutch at his head for a moment, and he stumbled sideways into a girl walking the other way. He apologised, continuing on his way. What was going on? His nanites should be cleaning the residual alcohol from his system by now—there was no such thing as a hangover unless he wanted one, and he certainly didn’t.

He sniffled and rubbed at his face, then blinked down at the smudge of red alongside the orange lipstick on his hand. Was that blood? The stabbing pain started up again and he clutched at his head, stumbling. He missed the top of the plascrete steps and tumbled down, and when his head hit the corner of a step, he knew no more.

  


Sam drew in a breath. He could definitely smell bacon. Maybe also eggs. He blinked his eyes open and realized with a start that he was not in his own bed.

 _Ruby_. He could hear someone moving around outside the room, but when he stretched out across the bed, a searing pain burned behind his eyes. He gasped involuntarily. How much had he had to drink last night? _Oh, oh no_. The Elysium.

He remembered most of the trip, although some was hazy. He definitely remembered some scorching sex, but as he looked at the bed beneath him, there were no actual scorch marks to be seen, thank god. He must have been hallucinating, because he was sure he remembered sparks.

The door opened wider and Ruby poked her head in. “Oh, there he is,” she said, smiling sunnily. “How're you feeling? You were sleeping like the dead!”

“I've been better,” Sam croaked out, managing to sit up. Ruby jumped on the bed, pushing him back down again onto the pillows with a thump. She kissed him hungrily and he let out a groan as he tasted peaches on her tongue.

“Aww, poor baby got a sore head?” She was wearing a pair of white lacy panties and a tight singlet top, and the way she sat astride his hips was doing things to his body that his brain was not yet on board with.

Sam pushed her hair out of her face with one hand and smiled up at her, as his other hand trailed down her arm. “Not too sore for more of this.” He lifted his head to capture her mouth again, but she sat back, grinding down slightly on him.

“Not right now, sweetheart. I've got breakfast cooking. Come on!” She climbed off and darted out of the room before he could catch her.

He sat up slowly, rubbing at his forehead, but it didn't help the sharp pain. He saw his clothes from the previous night on the floor, so he dragged himself out of bed to put them back on. A buzzing from his comm alerted him to a message from Dean.

_Dean: Hope ur having a fun date, bitch. I'm at home. Let me know what's going on._

Sam chuckled to himself. Dean could be such a mother hen sometimes. He didn't want to subject himself to his brother's teasing, so he fired back a message rather than calling.

_Sam: hope you didn't wait up, jerk. At ruby's. Home later._

He wandered out of the bedroom and found Ruby putting two plates of bacon and eggs on the glass-topped table. She smiled, and turned back to the coffee machine.

Sam sat down and waited until Ruby brought his coffee and joined him with a glass of what looked like fruit juice. “This looks amazing,” he said, smiling.

“Thanks! I'm not sure it's real bacon—the real stuff’s a bit out of my price range. The eggs are real though! My secret Topzone supplier,” she added with a wink.

“Color me impressed,” Sam said. Almost all the fresh food came from the scraper tops in the sunny Topzone, although there was plenty of food production done under lights in lower areas. Generally, the further up the source, the tastier the produce, and the more expensive. Meat was scarce, and the synthesised stuff didn't quite taste the same.

Sam tucked into the breakfast, only realizing how hungry he was after the first mouthful.

Ruby gave him a smile, hesitating before she spoke. “So, you put on a pretty impressive display last night. I had a feeling that the Elysium would affect you that way.”

“Uh, thanks?” Sam's face heated. He wished he could remember more of what they'd got up to.

“I don't mean the sex, dummy,” she laughed. “Although I'll admit, that was pretty spectacular. No, I meant the magic.”

Sam blinked. He had assumed all the bright lights he remembered had just been hallucinations. “Magic?”

Ruby levelled a look at him. “You know, enchantment? Abra-cadabra stuff? The Elysium is an enhancer. It boosts your power.”

“Power? What power? I'm not a witch, I just do the rituals to break enchantments.”

“Well your little light show last night proves otherwise.”

Sam stared at her. His powers had surfaced after their run in with that witch a few years ago. He wasn't really a witch, was he?

“How do you know?”

“I'm also a witch. Well, I'm not very powerful, but I can help you to control it, to refine it. If you want to, of course.”

Sam considered this as he munched his maybe-bacon. It would be handy to have a better idea of what he was capable of, if she was right. He eyed her warily. “You’d help me?”

“Sure. I can see you're struggling and I want to help. Is that hard to believe?” She smirked, picking up their now empty plates.

Dean was gonna freak out when he found out about this, but Sam had felt like the magic was flowing easier for a few weeks now. “It'd be good to learn some more control, I guess.”

“Great! How about a little lesson to get you started?”

“All right.” Sam drained his coffee and took the cup over to the sink. He still wasn't sure how much of this to believe. He knew there were people who could do magic without rituals—witches with naturally gifted abilities. If he had that power, he had no idea where it had come from. He was pretty sure his dad had never shown an inkling of it, and he hadn't known his mother. He'd certainly never seen it in Dean. He leaned against the kitchen bench, arms crossed. Might as well listen to what she had to say, at least.

Ruby came back over holding a couple of large, white candles, which she placed in the middle of the table.

“Okay, so, the magic you've been doing already with enchantments and rituals is known as hedgemagic. Anyone can do that with the right gear. We don't need any reagents or symbols for _real_ magic, although those things can help focus power.”

Sam nodded, his mouth suddenly dry. What was she going to do? It didn't help that her standing around in her underwear talking about real magic was actually… kind of hot.

Ruby smirked at him and raised a hand. “Real magic is just energy, transferred from one state to another. You just have to… draw it up, and direct it.”

She levelled a look of concentration at her hand, and a crackle of purple lightning appeared around it. Sam stared as the lights got brighter for a moment, then Ruby snapped her fingers and one of the candles burst into flame.

She pinched the flame out, then walked over to Sam and put one finger under his chin, closing his open mouth. “Your turn, sweetheart,” she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

He straightened up and stepped forwards. Holding up his right hand, he concentrated on letting the magic flow, as he did when breaking drugs. He could feel something gathering along his limbs, like an itch, neither warm nor cold, feather-light. He tried to focus the feeling on his hand, and gasped when a small white light appeared in his palm, floating just above it.

“That's it!” Ruby said with an excited bounce. “Now, direct it at the candle!”

Sam looked at the candle and pushed his hand out towards it, palm first. The candle wick gave a small fizz, but didn't light. Sam dropped his hand, slightly out of breath, his headache still pulsing in his temples.

He turned to Ruby, who was wearing a wide grin. He laughed in astonishment. He'd just used magic on his own! He turned back to the candle. “Let me try again.”

It took him almost an hour to get the candle lit, and when a small flame finally danced on the wick, Sam and Ruby cheered and jumped around the room. Sam's headache was fierce, but it didn't stop him from grabbing Ruby and kissing her hungrily, which somehow turned into lifting her onto the kitchen bench, and once they started tugging clothes off they didn't return to practice for a while.

  


Dean walked into the station without grabbing a coffee first. He was anxious to get the Elysium to Charlie as soon as possible. He could start his day properly later, maybe after Cas turned up.

He'd got home after midnight and managed to catch a few hours sleep. When he'd woken up Sam still wasn't home, so he assumed the date must have gone well. He left the house, chuckling. It was too long since his little brother had seen any action. The kid was nose-deep in books most of the time.

The station was heaving with activity when he got into the main floor. People were running around like crazy, and several screens were on, blaring news networks from Top- and Midzone channels.

“...climbed the barrier and jumped from the mid-12 bridge over 4th Street…” one news anchor was saying. Another report was showing a picture of a young man, smiling at the camera. “The fourth victim to die this morning from unknown causes is Topzone-8 resident, Aaron Bass.” Dean flinched as he heard the name, and looked closer. He hadn't recognised the guy without his orange lips. Maybe he hadn't taken his own advice and overdosed after all.

He watched the rest of the newsfeed until it cut over to a tribute to the King of Las Vegas, famous for his wild parties and many lascivious wives.

“Dean, there you are.” Bobby appeared beside Dean, looking flustered. “I know you and Sam aren't supposed to work today, but I might need you on the ground after all.”

“What's going on?”

“People’re dying, that's what. No idea why, they're just dropping dead, bleeding out of their faces. A few have thrown themselves into space, screaming about the pain.”

Dean winced. It was difficult to throw yourself into the space between scrapers. Bridges had high safety barriers and fences, and window glass was thick and hardened. It took climbing skills, or a leap from a moving vehicle, usually.

He turned away from the screens and told Bobby, “I’m going upstairs to check in with Charlie first, okay?”

Bobby nodded. “All right, but I’m gonna need you later, okay?” He hurried off, muttering.

Dean headed upstairs. Could it be as easy as a bad batch of Elysium? He hoped the pill in his pocket would help get them some answers.

Charlie wasn’t in her lab when he got up there, but her assistant, Kevin, said she was in the mortuary. Dean knocked on the door as he walked in. Charlie was bent over a body, scanning it carefully.

She glanced up. “Oh, hey Dean. How’d the trip to Hollywood go?”

“Good.” Dean approached the body and saw that it was a young woman, her dark skin stained with blood around her nose and eyes. A bright yellow scarf was sitting folded with a pile of belongings beside her. “Oh, I know this girl. Well, not personally, but I see her sometimes at the coffee cart down on the bridge.”

Charlie straightened up, frowning at him. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Me too. What happened here, Charlie?”

“I wish I knew,” Charlie sighed. “I’m about to take a closer look at her blood chemistry. My best guess from the symptoms is that her body was rejecting some tech she put in it, but her nanite counts look all fine to me.”

Dean looked around to make sure Kevin wasn’t within earshot. “So uh, this might help.” He took the white tablet out of his pocket and held it out to Charlie.

“Oh my god… is that… it?” Charlie could barely contain her excitement. She grabbed a test tube from across the room and held it out for Dean to drop the tablet into.

“I got it from some kids up there who were popping them. Then just now, I saw one of them on the screen, on the newsfeed.”

“What, one of the victims? He’d been taking this stuff?”

“Yeah. Any chance this chick did, too?”

Charlie took the Elysium over to a bench, tipped the tablet out into a small dish and began crushing it up with a spoon. “I doubt it. The report said she was at work last night then went home to her boyfriend. She started throwing up blood and passed away during the night.”

“Great.” Dean couldn’t imagine what their apartment must look like after that episode. Must have been terrifying for them. “Maybe I could go talk to her boyfriend.”

“Let’s see what we find here first.” She put the crushed powder under the microscope and an image came up on a screen above the machine. “Molecular structure looks interesting. This one’s not just sucrose or DHA. Where’s Sam? I want to ask him about the enchantment.”

“He didn’t come home after his date last night, actually. I’ll see if I can get him now,” Dean said, grinning. Charlie hooted as he he dialed Sam’s number, but his grin faded as it went to voicemail again. “Fuck. I know it’s been a while, but put it away, Sammy.”

He pulled his tablet out of his pocket and wrote Sam a cryptic message: _Where the hell are you, bitch? Charlie’s looking at some of the stuff and wants to know about the enchantment._

“Well hello, what’s this?” Charlie murmured.

Dean looked more closely at her screen. “What is it?”

Something was glimmering on the screen, among the particles of the ground-up Elysium. Charlie increased the magnification again and again, then tried to focus the picture. A tiny, shiny object swam into the picture, then out the other side.

Charlie sat back, deep in thought. “That’s a nanite. But it’s tiny—smaller than any I’ve seen. I only noticed it because it sparkled! I don’t know if I’ll be able to interface with them. It’s gonna take me a while. Hang on.”  She grabbed another dish that was next to the microscope. “This is blood from our girl, here.” She panned around the dish for a few moments, until Dean said, “There!” and pointed to a spark on the screen. Charlie zoomed in on another of the tiny nanites.

“So she did have them,” Dean said. “But how did she get them if she didn't take Elysium? They could be in anything. In the water, for fuck’s sake.”

“No. The water filters are designed to cut out any foreign particles. Even these wouldn’t get past, I don’t think.”

They sat, thinking, for a moment. Dean said, eventually, “I’m sorry, Charlie, I gotta go get coffee before I think this hard.”

Charlie looked up from the screen again. “Coffee. Didn’t you say this girl got coffee from the cart?”

“Yeah. Wait, you’re not suggesting… No. No, no no.” Dean shook his head. “Please don’t say it’s in the coffee.”

“Well, it could be in anything! Why don’t you go get some, and I’ll check it. Don’t drink any on the way back here, though.”

“Seriously?” If the one drug he actually took on a regular basis was off limits, things were about to get a lot more cranky around here.

He stomped off downstairs and out the front of the station, waving off Rufus when he tried to ask him something on the way through.

There was a guy working the coffee cart today—Cole, Dean thought his name was. Sarcastic little asshole, but at least he made good coffee. He gave his order and Cole started making it.

“So where's your little bro today? Aren't you two usually joined at the hip?”

“Ha. Funnily enough he went out last night with your buddy, Ruby. Hasn't been seen since.”

Cole laughed. “Ruby? Seriously? She might be a nice piece of ass, but that chick is bad news. Warn your bro away from that, Deano.”

Dean fought down an urge to punch Cole in the nose. “Thanks for the warning, but I'll let him make that decision.”

“Fair enough. Good luck to him.” Cole handed over the coffee and Dean scanned his comm to pay.

“Later,” Cole called as Dean turned away, ignoring him. The seed of worry that he always carried for Sam had started to bloom into something ugly, and he compulsively checked his comm again. Still nothing from Sam.

As he was heading back up to the front of the station, a shadow coalesced into a man nearby, and Dean nearly tripped over in surprise.

“Jesus Christ, Cas, warn a guy next time you're about to jump out like that.”

“My apologies. I didn't want to alarm anyone by lurking outside here.”

Dean wondered what other special skills the Angel was carrying in his arsenal, but he shook off his surprise and turned to walk inside, becoming with his hand. “Come on, I'll just drop this in to Charlie and we can go visit your friends.”

“They're not my friends, Dean.”

Upstairs, Charlie was complaining to Kevin. “But they have no relationship, no similar places of work, blood type… It's all random. Oh, hey Cas!”

Castiel gave a small smile.  “Hello, Charlie.”

Dean suspected that was the first time he'd seen the Angel do anything but frown. “Uh, Castiel, this is Kevin. He's our lab assistant. Kevin, Cas is visiting from the Top.”

“Hi,” Kevin said brightly, shaking Cas’ hand. “Kevin Tran. Isn't Castiel an angel name?”

“Yes, it is. My parents were very religious.” Castiel lied so smoothly, Dean had to keep himself from staring.

He held out the coffee to Charlie to change the subject.

Charlie thanked him and took it, heading to the microscope.

While she checked a sample of the coffee, Dean gave Cas a quick run-down of what they'd found in the Elysium pill, and in the blood of the dead girl.

“And you think it's in the coffee?” Cas squinted in confusion.

“Well, it could be in anything.”

“Let's see,” Charlie zoomed in until they could see tiny particles floating around in the solution. “Yep, they're in there all right. A lot less of them than in the drug, but they’re there.” She sat back. “I wonder what else they're in. Or who else.” She looked around at each of them, wide-eyed.

Dean spoke up. “But the fact that we're all still standing is a good thing, right? Didn't you say those other poor assholes had rejected the tech?”

“Yes, but that's just the beginning. It could happen a lot more before it stabilises in the population.”

Dean turned to Cas. “Is this Paradise? What do you know about it?”

Cas’ face was stoic. “Nothing. I am only given my mission, no more.”

“But why would Castiel know about Paradise, or any of this? Are you investigating it?” Kevin looked confused.

They all looked at Kevin, then at each other.

Dean spoke first. “He'll work it out on his own, anyway. Kevin, Castiel's an Angel.”

Kevin gaped at Dean, then Castiel. “They- they're real?”

Charlie cut in. “Look, we haven't got time for this. I need blood samples from all of you. You too, Cas. Then we need to find out what this is, and how to stop it.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Dean laughed.

“Where the hell is Sam?” Charlie was muttering as she fetched syringes and a marker from her supply closet.

A short time later, Charlie had drawn blood from each of them while Kevin stared at Castiel the entire time. Dean saw Castiel's uncomfortable glances between Kevin and him, so they said their goodbyes.

Charlie called to them on their way out, “Call me later so I can update you, okay?”

“Will do,” Dean replied as they walked back downstairs and out the front doors.

“I'm sorry, but I need to take you to Paradise now.” Castiel looked earnestly at Dean as they stood outside the station, the midday sun peeking between the tops of the scrapers far above. “I've got alarms going off all over…” He waved his hand vaguely in the air.

“I know. And after what Charlie was saying about the coffee, I think it might actually be a good idea. Maybe we can poke around a bit while we're there.”

It seemed Cas didn't share his optimism. “Security there is tight, Dean.”

“We'll see.” He took in Castiel's worried frown as they set off walking towards the Topzone elevator again. “Hey, you're not going to get in trouble for not bringing me in sooner, are you?”

“It's likely. My superiors don't take kindly to delays.”

“Jeez, man, I'm sorry. You should have said.”

“I did say, but you were intent on visiting Balthazar, and I… wanted to help.”

Dean looked at the Angel, no, the man striding along beside him. Of all the things he had expected from Angels, compassion was not one of them. He guessed Paradise hadn't brainwashed all the human out, after all.

“Well, thanks. I appreciate it.”

Castiel nodded, and they continued along the sidewalk. It was a clear, warm, late spring day in the Midzone, but by the time they reached the Topzone in the express elevator, the sun was beating down and the dry easterly winds got past the shredders and blew grit into everything. The Topzoners were staying indoors out of the heat for the most part, but thankfully the journey to Paradise wasn't far—just a couple of stops on the metro to the west, on the edge of the inhabited city.

  


The Paradise Corp building was in the top fifty-one floors of a scraper that towered above the others around it. It was narrow and silver, and shone like a beacon.

Castiel led Dean towards the front entrance, wondering what he made of it. The door was grand and imposing, and could be reached across a wide steel bridge without fences on either side. It was unsettling, especially with a strong wind howling across their path. Castiel didn't usually enter the building through the front door, but he thought it was worth bringing Dean this way, for the drama.

Inside, Castiel led Dean straight to the elevators, more glass and polished steel, and up to the thirtieth floor. Angel HQ took up this entire floor, but all they could see from the foyer was more white walls and steel-framed glass. It was always eerily quiet in here, and the smooth floor muffled their footsteps.

Castiel turned to Dean, ensuring that he was okay so far. He imagined it might be overwhelming the first time. Dean was looking around him in awe. When he crossed to the other side of the foyer to look out of the large glass windows, Castiel followed him. They gazed down to the wooded hills that were just past the edge of the city. It had been a recreation area before, he knew. A large, round, crumbling concrete structure was still visible among the stunted trees, far below. It was an entertainment stadium, once. No one lived down there now, except gangs of junkers.

As he looked down, Castiel marveled that Dean had once again drawn his attention to the ancient city in its faded glory—to things that had always been there, but that he’d never really looked at before. He turned to look at the man standing beside him, resisting the urge to touch his shoulder, or take his hand.

When he noticed Cas watching him, Dean smiled. “Where to?” he asked.

Castiel gestured to his left, and they continued to a corridor off to one side.

When they reached the door of Zachariah’s office, Castiel waved his hand over the lock to swipe them in. Inside, Uriel was waiting. The imposing man leered at them both. “Well, look what the cat dragged in. Castiel, you've finally brought us something useful, hmm?”

Castiel disliked Uriel, and this was why. The man was a condescending ass. “Hello, Uriel. Here is Dean Winchester, as requested.” Castiel inclined his head in a mock bow.

Dean came forward with his hand outstretched, but Uriel just looked at him with derision, one eyebrow raised.

“Good. Zachariah has been waiting for you. Go in.”

He stepped back and gestured towards a door into the next room.

Zachariah was fond of dramatics. He'd told Castiel once that when he'd lived for as long as he had, he needed something to brighten his days. The Angel in question was sitting behind a white desk in the centre of a featureless room, except for a large screen lighting up one wall. The newsfeed was replaying images of the day's deaths across the zones. More had been discovered since that morning.

“Dean Winchester!” Zachariah said warmly, drawing attention back to himself. “Welcome to Paradise. I'm Zachariah, Castiel's superior. But I'm sure he's told you all about me.”

“Uh, no, actually. He hasn't.” Cas thought Dean sounded nervous. He wished again that he could reach out and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Zachariah gave Castiel an admonishing look as he stood up, and he knew he'd be paying for that one later. “Oh dear. In any case, I hope you weren't getting too attached to our Castiel, here. He's about to be taken away to have his entire memory of you erased.”

Castiel's stomach turned to ice.

Dean's eyes flicked quickly to him, then back to Zachariah. “Wait, no, you can't just-”

“Actually I can. I do it all the time.” Zachariah looked smug.

Castiel spoke quickly, “Actually, sir, I think I can be of further use to the mission.” He desperately didn't want to forget Dean.

“You're not here to think, remember? You can stay for now, in case you can add useful information. Then you're to report to reconditioning.”

“Very well, sir.” Castiel bowed his head. There was no use arguing.

“No, Cas, don't just take that shit, you can't let them just take your—”

Zachariah cut in as he walked around to the front of the desk, leaning back against it. “All right, that's enough from you.” He stepped closer to Dean, tilting his head curiously. “You’re fond of him, aren’t you? You know he’s no longer human? He’s not equipped for emotions.”

Castiel winced. He was right. He wasn’t supposed to be feeling any of this. Something was definitely wrong with him.

When Dean didn’t reply to that, Zachariah continued. “I have a business proposal for you.”

Dean started moving forwards again. “You can take your business proposal and shove it—”

“Uriel?”

The big man stepped up behind Dean and planted a immobiliser on the back of Dean's neck. Dean froze mid-stride, a confused expression on his face. Castiel flinched, but trying to help would do no good.

“I'm sorry that was necessary, but I need you to hear me out.”

Dean stood awkwardly, the immobiliser preventing him from moving or speaking.

Zachariah continued, unfazed. “Here at Paradise Corp, we like to think that we oil the gears of society. We control the flow of trade on many recreational activities, we provide the population with their morning coffee and their evening entertainment. And our Angels keep the peace where it's threatened. All for the good of our mighty city.”

Castiel looked sideways at Dean again. Uriel had allowed him to relax a little, but he was still standing unnaturally still. Cas looked back to Zachariah as he paced forward, stopping just in front of Dean and speaking upwards into his face.

“Now we are coming to the culmination of a new plan. Yes, it's ambitious, but why stop at Los Angeles? Perhaps we'll roll it out to all of America's city-states. In any case, soon, the people of LA will be docile and totally compliant. Our new nanite, Elysium, will remove their desire to do anything outside of what we allow them to do, once we activate it. We've always had control of the Council, but soon we'll be in control of everyone, literally. We call it the ‘Rapture’. Catchy name, huh?”

Castiel was horrified. He felt that he had to say something, since Dean was still incapacitated. “You're going to turn them all into mindless drones?”

“Oh come now, Castiel. You of all people should understand how much humans desire to be told what to do. They want an ordered life, free from danger, from the impulses that lead to trouble. This is the best outcome for everyone. No more crime! They won't be completely mindless. The city must still function, after all.” He waved a hand towards Dean as he turned to pace back behind his desk. “Let him speak.”

Uriel released his hold and Dean stumbled forward a step, catching his breath. He turned to glance at Cas, who tried to channel an apology into his gaze.

Dean turned back to Zachariah. “What… what do you want from me?” he gasped out.

Zachariah’s smile was grim. “You're going to help us distribute Elysium, and calm the worried population. I also know that that vermin, Crowley, has been sniffing around. You're to dispose of him, and as many of his cronies as you can find.”

“I'll never help you enslave the city.” Dean was practically growling, his fists tightly curled. Castiel was also simmering with rage.

“You have no choice. Not if you want to help your brother.”

Dean froze. “What?”

Castiel wanted more than anything to wipe the smug smile off Zachariah’s face.

“As we speak, he's with one of my best agents, preparing himself for a role in this little game. His magical ability will certainly come in handy.”

“Who, Ruby? She's an Angel? Did you know about this?” Dean whirled to glare at Castiel.

Castiel was shocked to his core. How could Dean suspect him? “No, of course not, I—”

“Don't lie, Castiel,” Zachariah butted in. “Of course you know Ruby. You trained together, not so long ago.”

The hurt in Dean's eyes was more than Castiel could bear. “No. No, Dean, I—”

“Soldiers of Paradise used to be actual androids, did you know that? But androids are unpredictable. They follow their programming to the letter, yes, but they can’t be programmed for critical thinking, to be creative to complete their missions, whatever it takes. There were incidents—well hidden now, of course. But after that, it was decided to raise human soldiers from adolescence to carry out the Council’s wishes. They must obey. Castiel, report to reconditioning, immediately.”

Castiel snapped to attention. “Yes, sir.” He marched out of the room before he knew what was happening, right down the hall and into the reconditioning unit. His brain was screaming at him to _resist, resist!_ But he no longer had control. All he could do as the techs in the lab were plugging him in, commenting over his damaged arm and the state of his emotional regulation, was to fix the image of Dean Winchester’s face into his mind. He couldn't forget. He couldn't.

He…

He smiled at the tech as she came over to remove the wires from his interface ports.

He stood up, stretched, and walked away from the reconditioning unit, wondering what was on the dinner menu.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **LAPD Drug Register**  
>  Compiled by Sam Winchester
> 
>  **Pishtaco**   
>  Base: sucrose  
> Appearance: Partially-refined brown sugar, glows slightly. Used in food production.   
> Enchantment effects: Reduces fat retention in the body.   
> Side effects: none known. Not considered dangerous, as the amount needed to overdose would be impossible to eat in one sitting.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam’s alarm blared out and he reached out to smack his tablet to stop the noise. He rolled over and cuddled into Ruby’s back with a sigh, unwilling to get out of their comfortable nest.

Ruby stirred and murmured, “Don’t you have to go to work?”

Sam grumbled his disapproval and burrowed his face into Ruby’s hair, taking in a breath of her vanilla scent.

She rolled over, kissing him gently on the lips. “Well, I do. Get up.”

He dragged himself back into consciousness and sat up, rubbing at his face. “Do we have to go? I really like it here.” He flopped back down on the pillows.

Ruby grabbed the sheets and pulled them off the bed, exposing him to the cool morning air. “Come on!” she laughed, heading into the bathroom and turning on the shower.

At that, Sam jumped to attention. He joined her in the bathroom for gentle touches and gasps under the warm shower, and the sparkling lights as he ran a hand down her soapy hip came a little easier to him this morning.

They had spent most of the previous day working on controlling the flow of energy needed to summon magic. As he had practised lighting and snuffing the candles, Sam realized that all the work he’d done with drug enchantments was the tip of the iceberg. He didn’t need his blood or any of the other ingredients—hedgemagic was for amateurs. He could just say the incantation and feel around for a weakness in the enchantment to break it. He couldn’t wait to try it out next time he and Dean were on a case.

Ruby had carefully guided him through more complex magic—the spell to create a body shield, for example, or to manipulate objects on the other side of the room. Then, they went back to the candle lighting.

“Okay Sam,” Ruby had said. “This time, I want you to try lighting the candle again, after taking this.” She held up another Elysium pill.

“Nah, come on. I don’t need that stuff anyway, see?” He lit the candle with a snap of his fingers.

Ruby waved her hand and the candle was snuffed out. “I want you to see the difference it makes, how much stronger it makes you.” She put the pill in his hand.

Sam looked down at it. “I’ll only take half. The full pill was a bit… overwhelming. Where are you getting that stuff from, anyway?” Sam had asked, curious.

Ruby had once again been evasive. “That would be telling.” She had watched him break the tiny pill in half and swallow the Elysium down, and held him as the drug took effect. Even though he’d taken less, he still felt the rush and pull of the energy around him. He had reached out a hand towards the candle, and incinerated it in a column of flame. Then, curious, he had pulled the flame back towards himself, making Ruby gasp. He held the flame in the palm of his hand between them, lighting Ruby’s delighted grin up with a golden glow. He closed his hand, extinguishing the flame, and pulled Ruby in for a lingering kiss that sent electricity fizzing down his spine.

They hadn’t been very productive again after that for a long while.

Today things were slightly different. He’d still ended up with a splitting headache after their shower, so he’d dialed up the painkillers. Ruby had been on a phone call in the other room for quite some time after he got dressed, and it sounded serious so he didn’t want to intrude.

He noticed on his own comm that Dean and Charlie had tried to call him twenty-two times between them yesterday morning, but nothing in the afternoon, and the only message Dean had left was a text about Charlie wanting to know about enchantment. Weird. He tried dialing his brother but it went straight to his voicemail. He waited for the tone, then left a message, “Dean, I’m still at Ruby’s. I’ll be down at the station soon. Got lots to tell you.”

He was about to head out to the living room to remind Ruby that they had to leave, when his comm buzzed. He answered by tapping the device, speaking without looking at his wrist. “Dean, I’m fine.”

He expected to hear Dean through the feed into his aural input, but instead it was a stranger. “ _No, this isn’t Dean. Are you Sam?_ ”

“Yes. Who is this?”

“ _My name is Balthazar._ ” Sam caught his breath as the man continued, “ _I’ve been trying to get a hold of Dean, but haven’t had much luck. Do you happen to know where he is?_ ” The man had a foreign accent of some kind.

“No, I haven’t spoken to him for a couple of days. Is there something wrong?”  Sam was starting to get concerned now, and he collected the shoes and few things he had around Ruby’s room. His heart was racing as he headed out of the room.

“ _Perhaps. Look, I know that you two are looking for information on Elysium. I have confirmed sources telling me that the drug is being manufactured by Lilith, and she has been sighted in Groundzone-12 somewhere near 6th Street. I don’t know much more than that, but she’s probably based in a warehouse around there. I do know that she’s very dangerous and you probably shouldn’t go in there alone_.”

“Thanks, Balthazar.” Sam tasted bile in the back of his throat at the mention of the witch’s name. “We’ll check it out.”

He cut the connection and saw that Ruby had also finished her call, sitting on the couch, watching him.

“I’ve got a lead on the Elysium supply chain. I’m going to have to call this in.”

Ruby stood up, putting a hand out. “Wait up, Sam. Why don’t we go take a look at it, just quietly.”

“You want me to take you down to the Groundzone?” Sam snorted a laugh. “Are you crazy?”

“Hey, I’m not too shabby in a fight.” Ruby snapped her fingers and blue sparks flew. “Come on, Sam. If we can get in there, take out the ringleaders, we can get rid of the evidence and be done with this whole mess.”

Sam hesitated. Surely this was a terrible idea, but she had a point. They could easily, between the two of them, take down the whole Elysium production. And he was so much stronger now than the last time he’d met Lilith.

“It’ll be so easy for you now. Look how far you've come,” she purred, sliding a hand around his hip and up his back.

He sighed, leaning down to plant a kiss on her lips. “All right, but the first sign of trouble, and we’re calling in backup. Large-scale backup.”

Ruby beamed and squeezed him. “Let me just get changed and call Cole to cover my shift. This is gonna be way more fun than standing around the coffee cart.”

Sam had to laugh at that. While she was getting changed, he fired off another message to Dean. _Got a lead from Balth. Heading down to 6th Street, G-12 to look for Lilith. Let me know what ur doing._

By the time he was done, Ruby had returned, her jeans and t-shirt replaced by tight black pants, a form-fitting dark maroon sweater, and black boots. She had braided her hair to keep it out of her way.

Sam picked up his jaw and managed to get out, “Why do I get the feeling you’ve done this before?”

“Ahh, that would be telling. I wasn’t always a barista. Remember my other job in the Topzone?” She winked at Sam and went over to open the front door.

Sam followed her out into the street. “What, are you military… ?” He trailed off, confused.

“I'm an Angel, Sam.”

  


Dean paced across the room, turning around when he got to the opposite featureless wall. The room they had dumped him in was just like the rest of Paradise—white on white, ceiling, glossy floors and empty walls.

The bastards had taken his comm and the tablet out of his pocket, as well as the gun he had stashed in a holster under his jacket. There were no windows in the room, so the only way he could tell that hours had passed was that he was exhausted. He had laid down earlier on the white couch and dozed for some time, but he had no idea how long for, and now he was wide awake again, and pissed.

Where was Cas? Had they wiped his memory again? He really hoped not, because if Cas no longer remembered him, he had no hope of getting out of here with all of his marbles.

After Castiel had marched out of the room like a freaking robot, the asshole Zach had continued explaining what Dean was going to do to help him. His mission would be to kill Crowley, decimate the Demons, then assure the population of the city that a small portion of them had just died from a nasty virus, and there was nothing to be worried about.

Meanwhile, Sam was going to be up to something with Ruby. Fuck-face hadn’t elaborated on that part, but the only way he was going to see his brother alive again was to do exactly what Paradise wanted him to do.

Well, fuck that. As soon as he got out of here, he was going to destroy Elysium, rescue Sammy, and come back up here to fuck up Paradise. Unfortunately he had no idea where to start with any of that, including getting out of here. The one door in the room was locked tight, food shoved through a too-small hole in the wall now and then.

Not that they weren’t treating him well. So far he’d been fed burgers and fries, waffles, some chocolatey drink that looked like it was made with real milk of some sort, and coffee on tap. He wasn’t sure if he should be eating or drinking any of it, so he didn’t for a while. Eventually his growling stomach had gotten the better of him, and he’d eaten some of the waffles. How could he say no to waffles? He’d also been happy to see the coffee—since he’d given up his morning cup earlier, he had developed a ridiculous headache. Getting his caffeine fix had helped with the headache, but not with improving his shitty mood.

He paced around the room scowling, until at long last, the door opened with a clunk, and Zachariah walked in, followed by Uriel. The taller man stood near the door against the wall, looming threateningly.

Zachariah walked towards Dean. “Good morning, Dean. How’re you doing today?”

Dean backed away a few steps, guarded. “What do you want, Zach?”

“Come now, are we not treating you well? I just wanted to check in, see if you’d changed your mind about helping us out.”

Dean tried to keep his tone level. “I guess I’m still not seeing what’s in it for me.”

“Oh, there’s nothing in it for you, personally, apart from perhaps the knowledge that your brother is safe for the time being.” Zachariah grinned mirthlessly. “Otherwise, you’re going to help us, whether you agree to or not.”

Dean felt the last of his hope slip away. “Then why ask me?”

“I just wanted to give you the illusion of choice. It would be cheaper for us if you just agreed to help. Otherwise, the surgery to implant the cybertech to have you bend to our will is quite straightforward.”

“Surgery? You’re kidding, right?” Dean couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

Zachariah looked vaguely disappointed. “So that’s a no, then?”

“Hell yes, that’s a no. There’s no way I would voluntarily do anything to help you fucking lunatics.”

Zachariah inclined his head. “Very well. I’ll put through the request to the cybertech department. They’ll be down for you soon. Uriel?”

Uriel opened the door and followed Zachariah out, grinning maliciously at Dean as he left. The door locked behind them like the slamming of stone.

Dean felt panic rising in his throat. He shouted “Fuck!” in frustration and kicked at the couch, neither of which made him feel any better. He went over and rattled at the door, but it was locked up tight. A circuit around the room didn’t reveal any other possible escape routes, either. He slumped down on the couch in defeat, head in hands.

Only a few minutes had passed when he heard the door click again. It had barely opened when he heard a shout, then a couple of thuds. He jumped to his feet, wishing he had something to arm himself with, but then a dark trench-coated figure peered around the door.

Dean’s heart soared with hope again. It was Cas.

  


Castiel’s mind was a whirlwind of confusion. He had been happily going about his morning training in the Garden when he was overcome with the feeling that there was something else he should be doing. He was sure that he had just been on his way to do something important down in Midzone-15, but he couldn’t remember what it was.

He finished his run and headed back to the living quarters to shower, letting the water run hot over his skin. There was someone… a man? A memory itched at the back of his eyes, an image. Green eyes, light brown hair, a smile on lips that he’d like to… No, he didn’t know anyone like that. He shook the water out of his hair and rubbed at his face.

It wasn’t until he was dressed and walking into the mess hall for some breakfast that he saw it, on the big screen on the wall—a Paradise Coffee logo on a cart on a bridge. A name slammed into the front of his mind: Dean Winchester.

Dean was here, in Paradise. But where? Castiel quickly accessed the central database, text flashing up in his eye, appearing to him to flash up in mid-air a foot in front of his face. Dean was a drug investigator in the LAPD. Why would he, an Angel, be so desperate to help a Midzone cop? Dean had a brother, Sam, also police. Both Sam and Dean were currently flagged for protection by the Angels. Interesting. He was going to have to find his way into some more secure databases to locate him.

He kept walking, trying to act as though he hadn’t just realized that his memory had been wiped by the megalomaniacs who called themselves his guardians.

He knew the memory wipe procedure was highly effective. The only way he would have held onto the memory of this man was if he was so important to Castiel that he'd hidden him far down in the back of his mind. He had to help him.

Anger bubbled up inside his chest. How dare they? They had already taken so much from him, his birth family, his body, why did they have to take his friends?

He strode around a corner and nearly ran right into Zachariah and Uriel, coming the other way.

Zachariah looked delighted. “Castiel! How are you feeling this morning? Sleep well?”

Castiel couldn't let on that he knew anything. He highly suspected Zachariah of being behind whatever was going on with Dean. He had never got on with his superior, preferring to stay out of his way as much as he could.

Now, he pushed down his anger and stood to attention, eyes forward. “Good morning, Zachariah, Uriel. I am well.”

“That's good.” Zachariah patted him in the shoulder. “You take it easy today, okay? Your last mission was taxing.”

“Yes, sir.”

As Zachariah and Uriel moved away, Cas wished he could remember what his last mission had been. Something in the Mid-, maybe Groundzone. Something involving Dean.

He moved into the corridor, internally accessing his plans for the Angel HQ, trying to think of where they might have locked Dean up. There. An empty classroom just around the corner.

He was just wondering how he was going to get past the cameras in the hall when he heard a rattling sound. He peeked around the corner to see two techs pushing a cart, laden with medical supplies and boxes of cyber parts. They paused outside Dean's room, fiddling with the lock.

He'd run out of time. As one of the techs opened the door, Castiel powered up his laser and burst around the corner, shattering the camera in the ceiling with a silenced laser blast.

The techs called out in terror, but he hit one with the butt of his gun, and threw the other against the wall with a crack. Once he was sure they were both unconscious, he swallowed down apprehension and peered inside the door.

There was a man standing next to a white couch, presumably where he'd been sitting until he heard the commotion. “Cas,” the man breathed, smiling. _Dean_.

As he approached, Castiel was struck by how beautiful he was. His green eyes shone in the bright white of the room as he smiled. Oh, he wished he could remember what they had been through already. Dean clearly already knew him.

“Dean Winchester?” Dean's smile faltered as Cas spoke. “I'm Castiel. My apologies, some of my memories have been removed, but I will take you to safety, if you'd like me to.”

Dean’s eyes were sad as he replied, quietly, “Yes please.”

“Okay.” He hesitated, not sure what to say to reassure Dean. He couldn't think of anything that didn't sound hollow, so he went back out to the hall and dragged each of the unconscious techs inside, leaning them against one wall.

Dean dragged the equipment cart inside as well, eyeing its contents with open disgust. “They were gonna put this in me,” he said, picking up a coin-sized chip, wires sprouting from it.

Castiel didn’t want to think about what might have happened if he’d been a few minutes later. Instead he said, “If we're quick we can get out before anyone realizes. Come with me, _quietly_.”

They left the room, hurrying down the hallway.

“Aren't there cameras in here and shit?” Dean muttered, sounding worried.

As they rounded another corner, Castiel lifted his laser and shot out the next camera, without stopping. It would only be a matter of time until the alarm was raised one way or another. He led Dean through a door, and into the garden.

  


Dean stopped still as they passed through the door, gazing around with wonder. The space containing the garden couldn't really be called a room—it was huge. Easily most of the width of the Paradise building itself. The ceiling was a long way above them and curved away, turning to what looked like glass with the partially cloudy sky visible through the treetops. Dean knew that he couldn't be looking at the real sky —they weren't at the top of the building. It had to be some kind of projection or illumination.

As for the garden, a wide path led away between trees into what looked like an indoor forest. The area to the right looked like a more formal garden with grass and flower beds, while the left of the path was more wild and woody, the ground an earthy carpet of fallen leaves. Dean had never seen so many trees in one place before.

He hurried to catch up with Cas, who hadn't stopped to sight-see. He led Dean onto a narrow path that forked off through some dense bushes.

When Cas glanced back to make sure Dean was following, Dean was staring around them again. Cas stopped, turning to him. “What is it?”

“N-nothing… I've just never seen so many different plants in one place like this before, except on a screen. It smells so good!” He smiled, taking a deep breath.

Castiel blinked, looking around in surprise as though he was seeing it for the first time. “Yes, it is pleasant here, isn't it,” he said, then took a deep breath. “The white blooms are called _Gardenia_ , apparently.” He pulled one off a bush and handed it to Dean.

Dean hesitated, surprised, then accepted the flower and smiled at Castiel. He wondered if the Angel had any idea how chick-flicky that was, but Cas just ducked his head and muttered, “This way,” heading off again along the path with purpose. Dean breathed in the flower's scent, and followed.

Castiel stopped once the main path was back in view, leading Dean into a group of other bushes, these ones with spiky-edged leaves. Castiel crouched down, grabbing Dean’s arm and pulling him down to join him. They could see several people moving back and forth along the path. It seemed the garden was a popular thoroughfare this time of day.

“An elevator is just over there, but I'm certain it has a camera inside. Beyond that there's a staircase which goes all the way to below. It should be clear.”

Dean nodded, then stopped, confused. “How do you know? You in the habit of taking the stairs?”

Cas gave him a flat look. “It's a fire escape, actually. I should be able to override the alarm, I hope.”

“You hope?” Dean had managed to hold it together this far as they ran, but now this pretend sky was starting to press down on him.

He didn't even realize he was staring up at it until Castiel said in a growl, “Dean, look at me.” He faced the Angel again—his face was calm and inscrutable as ever. The tightness in Dean’s chest eased slightly. “We just have to wait for these people to clear, then we'll go. Now, tell me about what's been going on. I need to fill in some blanks.”

Shit, Dean had forgotten about that. He took a deep breath. “Right, the memory wipe. Okay, what do you know?”

“Next to nothing. Obviously you know me, I know that you and your brother are cops. That's… about it.”

Dean winced. “Okay. So, this is the second time you've lost your memories since we met. You brought me to Paradise yesterday under orders from Zachariah.” He gave Cas the condensed version of the last few days, mentioning the Elysium plot, Crowley, Balthazar and his own treatment at Zachariah’s hands.

When he was finished, Castiel seemed to be at a loss for words. He took a few moments, fear, disbelief and confusion flitting across his face before he finally asked, “And I am directly disobeying orders to help you stop this Elysium from controlling the destructive urges of the city's population?”

“Uh, yes?”

There were a few moments where “ _why_?” was written all over Cas’ face, but he didn't say anything. The realization hit Dean like a train that Cas’ life may not have been rosy to start with, but since he’d pulled Dean out of that warehouse just a few days ago, Dean had done nothing but cause the Angel pain. He needed to get out of there before he got him killed, or worse.

The confusion didn't leave the Angel’s face, but he nodded. “All right,” he said.

Dean let out a sigh, then said, “No, Cas. Just show me to the stairs, then I’ll get out of your hair.”

Castiel tilted his head, but didn’t say anything, so Dean continued, “Look, I’ve fucked things up for you enough. They don’t know it was you who helped me out of here, do they? What will they do if they figure it out?”

“I'm not sure. I'll be punished, probably. Maybe even decommissioned.” He looked away towards the main path.

“Decommissioned? Come on, man, listen to yourself. Just stay here, lay low. Work out how you can help your fellow Angels. I can’t ask you to turn your back on your family. We’ll be fine.”

But Castiel looked back to Dean, resolve in his eyes. “My family has already turned their backs on me. I need to set things right.” He smiled. “I'll go with you.” He reached out a hand and squeezed Dean's shoulder.

Dean flinched and gasped as the touch sent a jolt through his arm.

Castiel jerked his hand away. “I'm sorry, are you hurt?”

“I was, yeah, but my tech doesn't seem to be healing it too quick.” Dean rubbed at his shoulder, wincing. The shoulder didn't hurt any more, but the burnt area still seemed tender.

As he looked out through the branches, he noticed that the crowd on the path had disappeared. “Now’s our chance. Come on.”

They quickly got up and darted over to a corridor leading away from the garden. Past the elevator, Cas opened a door marked “FIRE ESCAPE”, closing it behind them.

As they headed down the stairs, Dean wondered how Castiel was holding up. It was obvious that the memory wipe had removed all trace of the last few days, but how the hell had he managed to remember that Dean was imprisoned in Paradise? He couldn't imagine how confusing—terrifying, even—it must be for Cas to have next to no recall, but here he was, still helping Dean. A warm affection grew in his chest.

He spoke quietly in the echoey stairwell. “Hey, thanks for coming after me, man. I was starting to lose hope.”

Castiel turned to give a barely-visible nod. “You’re welcome.”

“How did you even remember I was there?” Dean hadn't planned to ask outright, but he found himself needing to know. Needing to know where they stood. There was something about Cas that was… magnetic. He was drawn to him, and if Castiel had remembered him despite the memory wipe… he had to know why.

“I don't know. I honestly don't remember anything leading up to the reconditioning, but this morning I saw your coffee cart on the news bulletin and… I remembered you.”

Oh. It was just triggered by seeing a familiar place. Dean tried not to let the disappointment show in his voice. Then he realized what Cas had said. “Hang on, the coffee cart on the bridge over Mid-15-Broadway?”

“Yes, there was a spate of deaths around the area last night.”

“Jesus, really? My HQ is there. Okay, perhaps we'd better not head there. Let's go to my place and pick up an old comm. I need to get in touch with Sam, or Charlie.”

Cas tilted his head, curiously. “Who's Charlie?”

“She's… Oh, never mind, you'll meet her soon.”

They continued down so many flights of steps that Dean had long ago lost count. A deep thrumming noise made the building vibrate at this level. At least it didn’t have any external windows to make Dean's knees weak. Instead, as he walked down step after step he considered his odd attraction to the Angel. It wasn’t like he was tied down to anyone, was it? He just wasn’t sure if Cas was even interested, or had the software or whatever to be receptive to something like that. He had to try, just to know. For science. He grinned, thinking of Charlie, then abruptly, Lydia’s face appeared in his mind. What would she have made of all this, anyway? The city in danger, her beloved school at risk, him running all over the city with an Angel… He had a feeling that, for the good of the city, she would have been in the thick of it too.

Finally, the stairs came to an end at a featureless door. Castiel opened it and peered out, letting in the cacophony of the Midzone, then beckoned to Dean.

The light outside was blinding after the dark corridor, and the noise was awful. Dean shielded his face until he could open his eyes enough to see that they were in an alley off a main thoroughfare, then he covered his ears. The Paradise building towered far above, and at the end of the alley, the solid steel of a wind shredder footing blocked the way any further east. The shredder itself was above them, turbines screaming so loudly that Dean couldn't hear what Cas was shouting at him. He could only shake his head helplessly.

They hurried out of the alley and away from the Paradise scraper. When they were far enough away for Dean to hear himself think, he asked, “The alarm must be raised by now. We'll be on every Angel's most wanted list.”

“Yes, I can hear them. Come this way, I have a car nearby.”

“Wait, you can hear them? What're they saying?”

Cas hurried along the street, not saying anything for a few moments. They reached a corner and turned, then went down a long staircase before he answered. “They found the techs in the room you were held in. They're still looking for me, but it won't be long before they're tracking me.”

A cold feeling was growing in Dean's gut. “Shit. We need Charlie.”

“We need to keep moving,” Cas said with a scowl, and they hurried on.

 

 

By the time they picked up Cas’ Dodge and fought through the Midzone traffic to Dean and Sam's apartment, it was mid-afternoon.

Standing at the apartment door, Dean was glad that even though Paradise had taken his comm, they weren't able to remove the chip from inside the interface port in his wrist. He scanned it across the lock and the door clicked open.

“Sammy?” he called, then walked inside, Castiel following.

Dean headed into his bedroom, checking Sam's on the way past his door. His brother was nowhere to be seen, and his worry ratcheted up again.

He found his old comm in the bottom of a drawer of old tech. He had known that keeping this old stuff would come in handy one day.

“This is where you sleep?” Castiel had followed him, peering around at the tidy room.

Dean glanced around and picked up a pair of dirty pants from the floor, suddenly feeling embarrassed by the Busty Asian Beauties calendar he had pinned up over his desk.

He rubbed his neck and went over to put the dirty clothes in his basket. It didn't smell funky in here, did it?

“Just gonna change. I've been in these clothes too long.” Dean took off his shirts and dumped them in the basket as well. He picked up a clean shirt from the drawer, but turned when he heard a gasp from behind him. Cas was standing behind him, staring at his shoulder. Dean followed his gaze—the burnt handprint was still there, although now it had come up an angry red. Weird that his nanites hadn't healed it up completely by now. He frowned.

“How did you…” Castiel said, tentatively, reaching out his hand to fit exactly over the mark on Dean's shoulder. He flexed it slightly and Dean heard a whirring as the joints moved. The hand itself was cybernetic?

Castiel said in a small voice, “Did—did I do this?” Not quite human, after all, but so much of the man was still there, still part of him.

“Yeah. You jumped in front of a laser blast for me, Cas. Your arm was damaged and you did this when you grabbed my shoulder. Sam and I brought you here. That was… “ He paused, thinking for a moment. “Yesterday? No, the day before.”

Castiel let out a breath, and let his hand and his face fall. “Dean, I'm sorry. For all of this. I wish I could remember.”

“Hey,” Dean said, reaching out to lift Cas’ face with his palm against his cheek. The Angel’s eyes were wide, and very blue. “It's not your fault. We're gonna get those sons-of-bitches, okay?”

Castiel’s breath hitched and he leaned into the touch. “Dean, I… I don’t know what this is. I feel… my emotion regulators are off the charts. My heart is racing—what’s wrong with me?”

Dean smiled. “Nothing’s wrong with you, you’re just…” He trailed off as he drifted closer to Cas, their faces so close. His own heart was in his throat. All he had to do was…

A loud crash sounded out in the living room.

Cas and Dean both looked towards the door. Dean quickly threw on the t-shirt in his hand and followed Cas out of the bedroom.

In the middle of the living room stood Crowley, with one of his random Demon lackeys standing behind him. Crowley smirked. “Hello, boys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **LAPD Drug Register**  
>  Compiled by Sam Winchester
> 
>  **Siren**  
>  Base: sucrose  
> Appearance: Sugar tablets, often presented in heart-shaped candies.  
> Enchantment effects: increases sexual desire and stamina. Effects can last for hours.  
> Known side effects: Overdoses are rare. Usually exhaustion sets in first.


	7. Chapter 7

What now? On top of everything else going on in Castiel's life, these men had broken in at the worst possible time, when he was sure Dean had been about to kiss him. He knew what kissing was, just not what it was for, and up until a few moments ago, he'd had no particular desire to find out. But now, he _did_ desire to, and these assbutts were getting in the way.

He tried to shake off his confusion over the way his skin was hot all over, and stood in a loose crouch, gun in hand. He moved in front of Dean to stop him from moving further into the room, and stared at the men currently standing in the living room.

Dean huffed in annoyance. He moved forward, pushing Cas’ arm down and standing next to him.

“Crowley. Did you just break my door down?”

Crowley? Castiel quickly accessed the top level of the central ID database. Fergus Crowley, drug lord and criminal mastermind. One of Paradise’s most wanted. He stepped closer to Dean. “Can I kill him?”

Dean grimaced. “Not yet.”

Crowley’s smirk widened. “We just gave the door a bit of encouragement. I hadn’t heard from you idiots for a while, so I thought I’d come and check on you. I assume the fact that you’re still running around with this Angel means that you’ve got something for me?”

Castiel’s confusion spiked higher. What was Dean’s relationship with this scum? He turned to Dean, about to ask him what Crowley was talking about, but Dean got in first.

“It’s okay, Cas, I’ll explain later.” He turned back to the Demons. “Yes, we have updates. Can I just finish getting changed first? You just about caught me with my pants down.”

Crowley looked at Castiel, raising an eyebrow, then back to Dean. He raised a hand, gesturing to the bedroom door.

Dean shuffled back into the room, closing the door behind him. Castiel stood in place, glaring at Crowley.

Crowley sighed. “Let me give you a rundown, Feathers. New drug, Elysium. I've asked Starsky and Hutch here to find out what it is and where it's coming from.”

Castiel eyed Crowley dubiously, but stayed silent. He'd let Dean decide how much to share.

Dean reappeared and stood next to Castiel again, frowning. “You missed the fact that you're basically holding my school hostage while we do your dirty work.”

“Well, I didn't want to make things too uncomfortable. What’ve you got for me?”

Dean hesitated, looking to Cas for a moment. Cas wasn't sure what he was looking for—perhaps reassurance, but he really didn't think they should go spilling their secrets to this criminal.

“Look, what we’ve found out about Elysium, what they’re planning to do to the city… it affects all of us. I need to know that you’re gonna help us out with this, Crowley.”

Crowley didn’t react. “Who is ‘they’, exactly?”

“Paradise Corp. The Elysium contains a nanite that’s basically going to mind-control everyone. No more crime, the perfect city. It’s not just the drug though—it’s in other stuff. Paradise coffee, at least. When they activate the nanites, the whole city will be under Council control.”

“The Council, or Paradise?” Crowley’s forehead creased with confusion. “I thought you said this was Paradise’s scheme?”

“Paradise want to control it all. Up until now they already had control of the Council, but soon, everyone's gonna be under Elysium control. Paradise want me to kill you and your Demons. And to top it off, Sam is somewhere with one of their agents right now, doing who knows what. I’m just charging up an old comm to see if I can get in touch with anyone, then hopefully we might know more.”

Crowley sighed and moved to sit on the couch. “My, you have been busy.”

Castiel and the other Demon remained standing, still glaring at each other.

Dean ducked back into the bedroom and came back with the comm unit. He strapped it onto his wrist as he sat down on the armchair, and fired the device up. A few moments later, he looked up at Cas. “There’s a message from Sam here. He says they’re going to G-12 to find Lilith.”

Castiel blinked. He knew of Lilith—she was a wanted criminal as well. A powerful witch, if the reports were anything to go by.

“And why would he do a thing like that?” Crowley asked.

“Because she’s the one making the Elysium.”

Crowley nodded to himself. “Of course she is.”

Dean paused. “Wait, you know her?”

“Of course I do. A witch that powerful in my territory? She’s been working for me for years.”

Castiel shared a look with Dean.

“So you’ve been behind this whole thing from the start?” Castiel could hear the frustration in Dean’s voice.

“Of course not, or else why would I have roped you idiots in? She’s obviously turned coat. Shame.”

Castiel bit down his own frustration enough to ask, “Where is she?”

Crowley eyed Castiel with disdain. “Oh, the robot does speak after all.”

Castiel moved across the room at Angel speed and grabbed the Demon by the throat, lifting him slightly from the couch. “Tell us where she is.”

The demon near the door started moving forward, but Dean pulled his gun from the back of his jeans and flicked it on. The whine stopped the demon in his tracks.

Crowley choked and looked wildly at Dean. “Winchester, call your attack dog off.”

Dean smirked. “No, I don’t think so. Tell us what you know, asshole.”

“I know where she might be!” Crowley gasped out between bouts of choking. The Demon lackey backed off a few steps. “I know where she might be. I’ll show you!”

Dean dropped the gun so it was pointing at the floor. “Cas?”

Castiel blew a calming breath through his nose, and released Crowley so he fell back roughly onto the couch. He retreated to his position by Dean.

Crowley rubbed at his throat and adjusted his tie. “If you’ve quite finished with the violence, I can show you where I suspect Lilith might be. She wouldn't be at her usual base of operations—that would be too obvious once people were looking for her. She'll be in an old warehouse, but in the underground levels.”

“Underground? That's not possible. There's nothing underground.” Dean glanced at Cas again.

“ _Au contraire_ , LA has an intricate subterranean network, most of which is flooded. There are some water tight areas, though. Tell him, Feathers.”

Castiel grit his teeth in frustration, but nodded in agreement. “Many buildings do have floors under the ground, yes. Most were carparks, back in the pre-flooding days.” He looked back to Crowley. “I doubt you could even get access now—they'd be a death trap when the river rises.”

“True enough, but needs must. There are secret places deep in the city. Places the Council have forgotten.”

Dean nodded, considering. “All right. I’m gonna try to get in touch with a few people, then we’ll get moving.”

“Good luck. I’ll expect to hear from you soon.” Crowley stood up and moved towards the door.

Castiel moved forward, after him. “Wait, you were going to take us to Lilith.”

Crowley paused, looking back at them. “I said I'd show you. I’ll send the directions to you. You think I want to go anywhere near that mad bitch? You must be kidding.” He continued out the door, and Castiel made to follow him, but Dean grabbed his sleeve and stopped him.

“Let him go. We can go and check out the location and call him if we need backup.”

Castiel turned to face Dean, unsure how to express his worry. “Dean, I have grave concerns about trusting this Demon gang with our lives.”

“Oh, I don’t trust him at all, but it’s in his best interests to be rid of Lilith. I think he’s on board, for now at least.”

“You should probably pack a few things before we leave. There’s a good chance you won’t be able to return here again.”

A flicker of sadness, chased by resignation passed over Dean’s face. He trudged into his bedroom. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ll throw in a change of clothes for Sam as well. I’ll just try calling him.” He tapped on his comm, then started putting a couple of clean shirts and underwear in a bag.

A few moments later, he looked up. “He’s not answering. I hope he’s all right.”

Castiel wondered, not for the first time today, what Zachariah’s plan for Sam actually was. Ruby was presumably teaching him to strengthen his powers, but why would the Angels want another powerful witch on their side? Surely once the Elysium was activated—what had Dean said they were calling it? “The Rapture”—Sam would be in Paradise’s clutches as much as anyone else.

Dean sat down on his bed, typing into his comm again. “Charlie! Thank god. Where are you?”

“ _I could ask you the same question! I’ve been working on this Elysium. I’m nearly able to interface with the nanites, but they’ve got some heavy encryption on them. They don’t seem to be active, just floating around."_

Dean spoke quickly, “That’s great Charlie, but listen. The Elysium is being spread through the city, because they’re going to activate it, and then everyone will be controlled by Paradise. They’ll still function, but they won’t have any free will.”

“ _Shit. When is this going to happen?_ ”

“No idea. I assume when they’re happy with the spread of Elysium.”

“ _Okay. Shit. Okay. There must be some way to break it before it’s activated. A virus maybe. Okay. Leave it with me. I’ll get the interface working and see if I can come up with something_.”

“Charlie, you’re awesome.”

“ _I know_ ,” she replied, and Castiel could hear the grin in her voice. “ _Hey, reception is patchy down there, but see if you can get in touch with me before you do anything that’ll take you out of range and I’ll let you know how I’m doing._ ”

“Sure thing. Good luck.”

“ _You too, Dean. I'll see you later_.”

So that was Charlie. Castiel had wondered if her voice would bring up any more memories, but she was remaining mysteriously unknown. She obviously meant a great deal to Dean.

Dean ended the call and stood up, lifting the bag of clothes. He turned to look at Castiel. “Cas, I have no idea what's gonna be down there. You don’t need to come with me, if you don’t want.”

Castiel gave Dean a flat look. “I'm coming. Besides, where else would I go?”

Castiel wasn't sure what he'd said to make Dean look so sad, but he was determined to help Dean and Sam however he could.

  


“But… you're really an Angel?” Sam asked for a second time as they walked away from her apartment.  

“Yes! Why is that so hard to wrap your brain around, Sam?” Ruby laughed.

He adjusted his breather to his face more snugly and  tried to rein in his thoughts. Had she been playing him this whole time? They’d been having mind-blowing sex for the last two days, and now she was pulling this information out? He had a sudden worrying thought that Dean might not be safe with Castiel, either. “Are you working with Castiel, then?”

“Castiel? Oh no, he’s a rogue. Had a screw loose for a while now.” Ruby dismissed Castiel with a wave of her hand.

That didn't make Sam feel any better. “So why exactly have you been helping me, Ruby? Was any of what we did… real?” He tried to keep the betrayal out of his voice, but he mustn’t have succeeded because Ruby turned to him, putting her hand on his arm.

“Aw, Sam, come on. We’ve had a great time, you learned some stuff and so did I. I learned that those assholes up in Paradise haven’t re-programmed my heart away. I care about you, Sam. I’ll take care of you.”

Sam huffed out a laugh. “Thanks, that’s very reassuring.” He pushed down the tight disappointment in his chest and focused on the task at hand.

They rounded a corner near the apartments and Ruby opened up a sliding door. Behind it was a high-powered hoverbike. She gestured to it with a smirk. “Hop on.”

Sam picked his jaw up and forcibly reminded himself that this woman had been lying to him since they'd met. He was absolutely not allowed to be impressed and a little aroused by the way she swung a leg over the bike, firing it up with a rumble. He climbed on behind her, and they zoomed off into the haze.

  


Sam and Ruby walked along the Groundzone gangway above Hill Street. The ground itself was hidden below by clouds of thick, gritty fog that made his eyes itch. His goggles were back at home, somewhere in his room.

“Any idea where we're actually going, here?” Ruby asked, scanning the windows of the scrapers around them. Sam wasn't usually claustrophobic, but the limited visibility and cavernous feeling of the old Downtown streets were starting to seriously creep him out.

“Not a clue. I can't detect the Elysium itself because it's not enchanted, but I might be able to sense Lilith. I doubt she's in plain sight.”

He reached out with his senses, feeling around for anything that might be out of place. He felt a faint tingling on the edge of his awareness, but he couldn't tell which direction it was coming from.

He hesitated. He was going to have to take some. He didn't want to—he was already starting to feel a compulsion to take it again, to always have the extra power was an amazing rush, and he always developed a headache when it wore off.  The truth was, it was going to help them with this case. He had no choice.

“Ruby, wait. There's something around here, but I can't pinpoint it. Give me half a pill.”

Ruby turned to face him and fished a small packet of pills from her pocket. “This is the last one I have, so let’s use it wisely, okay?” She broke the last pill with her thumbnail and gave one half to him, tucking the other half back into the packet. She pulled him down by the front of his shirt to kiss him, then held him steady by the arms while he swallowed the Elysium.

A grin spread across his face as he felt the drug take effect. He swayed, but Ruby held onto him, and he swung her around against the tough glass of the building they stood beside and pressed up against her. He lazily licked a line up her neck as she gasped, then sucked a mark onto her just below her ear, her skin salty against his tongue.

“Sam,” she said breathlessly, then again with a little more urgency, “Sam!” She pushed him away with a shove.

He stood there, panting with confusion, but when he realized she was looking past his shoulder, he turned to look as well.

Two junkers were standing there, one with a gun trained on them, the other with what looked like a hunting knife with a serrated edge.

“Give us the gear,” Knife-guy said in a tremulous voice. “We saw you take it. Give us the rest.”

Sam straightened up and looked at the guys. Fucking junkers.

“Sure,” he said. “Here it is.” He held out one hand, fist closed.

The junker with the gun came a little closer, slowly, like he was a wild animal. He held out his other hand towards Sam.

Sam said, “Take it.” He opened his fist to reveal a bright, glowing ball of flame. He hurled the fireball at the junker. It hit him square in the chest and he stumbled backwards with a shout. He lost his footing and tumbled over the edge of the gangway, his form almost immediately swallowed by the fog. It was only a few seconds before they heard a crunch, and the other junker turned tail and fled, dropping his knife in the process.

Sam was delighted. “Did you see that? That was awesome! The look on his face!” He laughed hard, and couldn't understand why Ruby was just standing there with a grimace.

“Okay Sam, that was freaking amazing, but you're starting to scare me a little. Please tell me you can sense something now?”

Sam paced forward until he was looking down into the swirling fog. He could definitely sense something under them. “Down there,” he said, pointing downwards. The guy hadn’t fallen far—surely the ground was only ten metres, max.

“Okay…” Ruby began, but before she could go on, he took a running leap off the edge of the gangway. He heard Ruby’s gasp and a “Sam, no!” before he landed on his feet with a wet splat. He dropped and rolled over his shoulder to absorb the force of the fall, before getting back to his feet. He shone his flashlight around, seeing little but green and brown. He had landed in a damp, mossy bog. A dank, rotten smell was partially filtered by his breather, and he coughed a little. The junker who had fallen was lying nearby, his limbs spread out at odd angles.

“I’m okay,” he called up to Ruby. He tried to brush the mud off his clothes.

She laughed, and said, “You’re fucking nuts, you know that? I’ll be down soon. I’m not jumping.”

Sam turned around in place until he felt a pull from a little further along the street. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was he was sensing, but there was some tingle of power ahead. His feet squelched as he walked forward. It was an odd sensation underfoot, like there was a hard surface underneath, covered with mud and slime.

He nearly walked right into an upright steel post before he saw it. He shone the torch up at the structure. Looming out of the fog in front of him was a huge, steel frame, with an oval-shaped roof over it. In the centre of the structure at ground level, was a concrete barrier around a hole in the ground. Sam tried to get closer to shine his torch down, but when he tried to walk under the steel structure, he met an invisible wall. He couldn’t move through it, no matter how hard he pushed.

A sound behind him made him jump, but he relaxed when Ruby appeared beside him. “What is it?” she asked, shining her torch upwards.

“I think it’s an entrance to the old underground Metro, but there’s something stopping me from getting closer to it.” He pushed a hand against the barrier again, baffled that he was unable to budge it.

“It’s warded. I can sense a sigil… just there.” Ruby pointed at the ground at their feet, and Sam found he could also sense a concentration of power.

“It’s strong. Can you break it?” she asked.

Sam reached out a hand and _pushed_ , and a sigil glowed red on the ground just inside the barrier. It fizzed out, and he reached out a hand experimentally, passing it right through where the barrier had been.

They moved to the top of the stairs and carefully down, stopping to break warding now and then.

The dark in the Metro tunnel was absolute. Shining the torches around did very little to penetrate the gloom. Sam hadn’t known these ancient tunnels were even accessible, and he had no idea what to expect. Were they likely to flood at a moment’s notice? The green slime on the floor and walls seemed to indicate that might happen. The area that Sam supposed must have been the platform for passengers was damp, but clear. Huge rats and insects skittered away from the torch beams. When Ruby shone her light down to where the tracks ran, that part of the tunnel was full of water.

Sam waved his light to get Ruby’s attention and indicated further along the platform, where he could still feel a pulse of power. They moved as quietly as they could down the concourse, their torches illuminating a door at the end of the platform. The warding here was a lot stronger, and Sam had to push harder to break it. He reached around him to draw more power and with a crackle, the sigils burned up and Sam slumped to a crouch, head spinning. He felt a warm trickle from his nose and saw blood on his hand when he wiped at it.  

Ruby dropped to his side, speaking quietly in his ear. “Are you okay? Come on, Sam, we’re there, at the finish line. You can do it, we’re so close!”

“I- I’m okay.” Sam struggled to his feet, swaying slightly.

“Do you want the rest of the pill?”

“No. No, I’m good.” Sam shook his head roughly, and the torch beams became less fuzzy in his vision. “Let’s do this.”

Sam put his hand on the door handle. It was unlocked, and came open with a sucking noise. This must be watertight, to keep out the flooding. The door swung open to reveal a corridor, lit with dim red lamps. The floor in here was clean concrete, apart from some muddy footprints that weren’t quite dry. They moved down the corridor, stopping to check other doors along the way. They were all locked.

At the end of the corridor was another unlocked door. This one opened into a large storage room, filled with plastic crates. A man and a woman were standing next to a small table, looking like they’d just jumped up at the sound of the door opening.

Sam threw a fireball at the guy—he went down screaming with a hole in his chest. Then Sam turned to the woman, young, blonde, dressed in a flowing white dress. He recognised Lilith now. She had been the one to cast something at him that woke up his power in the first place, years ago.

Her face lit with recognition. “Sam? Sam Winchester?”

Sam didn’t bother replying, just held out his hand and muttered a few words of incantation. Lilith’s feet rose off the ground, her hands flying to her neck. Her body flew backwards and slammed against the rendered brick behind her. “No! Please!” she choked out.

“Shut up, Lilith,” Ruby said, stalking forwards. “One less drug lord around here won’t upset anyone.”

Lilith managed to get in a gasp of air around the spell crushing her throat. She croaked out, “Sam, I can teach you, teach you to use it properly, without nanite help. Don’t trust the Angels! Aargh!” She stopped talking abruptly as Ruby shoved the junker’s hunting knife into her chest. Purple lightning flickered in her eyes for a few moments, then Sam released her and she slumped to the floor.

Sam staggered, panting.

Ruby rushed back over and hugged him, beaming. “We did it, Sam! She’s gone! Just one thing left to do now. We need to sort this Elysium out. I have a ritual here, but it’s very difficult to cast. Needs a lot of power, but I know you can do it, Sam. You can do it. Here,” she said, thrusting the small packet of Elysium containing the remaining tablet towards him.

Sam straightened up, looking out at the stacks of crates. This was all Elysium? He wandered over to one and opened the lid. Sure enough, the crate was stacked with smaller containers, filled with white powder. He couldn’t detect any enchantments. There must be a hundred crates here.

He turned back to Ruby, remembering what Lilith had said. “Ruby? What did she mean by not trusting the Angels?”

A look of annoyance passed across Ruby’s face and was gone. “Don’t worry about that now. She was trying to distract you. Just take the pill.”  She walked back over to Lilith’s body and yanked the knife out of her, wiping the blood onto the white fabric of her dress.

She returned to Sam and stood next to a table, holding out her hand for Sam to come over. He gasped when she suddenly swiped the knife over his forearm, drawing blood. She used his blood to draw a sigil on top of the table, then she pulled some kind of powder out of one of her pockets and threw it on top.

“Okay, Sam, your turn.”

“I thought you said we didn’t need ritual ingredients?”

“We do when it’s a complex spell like this. Come on, let’s ruin this stuff and get out of here.” She handed him a scrap of paper with an incantation written on it.

Sam pushed down his deep feeling of unease, but instead of swallowing the last half of the pill, he pocketed it. He didn't need that shit anymore. He could feel the power thrumming through his blood, ready to be released, to destroy something. He held up the paper with the incantation on it, struggling to focus on the words. Then he read the spell aloud, reaching out and drawing the magic from within. There was a deep rumbling under their feet, and lightning arced between the crates.

Sam felt the room start to spin. What was happening?

“Ruby?” he called out, and the last thing he heard was Ruby’s laugh, and, “We did it, Sam! The Rapture!” before he spiralled down, down and away from conscious thought.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **LAPD Drug Register**  
>  Compiled by Sam Winchester
> 
>  **Shojo**  
>  Base: Sake wine imported from the Asian Federation  
> Appearance: Pale yellow liquid  
> Enchantment effects: Mild euphoria.  
> Known side effects: Reports of occasional hallucinations. Not considered dangerous.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean's anxiety was at an all-time high as he and Cas left the Dodge near the school and walked several blocks into G-12. At the edge of a gangway, they found a rusted ladder leading down to the true ground. Dean had no idea what they were in for down there as they went rung over rung into the mist, but finally, Cas called out that he'd reached the ground, and Dean stepped off the ladder with a squelch.

Dean, to the best of his knowledge, had never actually stood on the true ground in the city centre. There was a thick layer of sludge over everything, like the river had already started to take back the city by swallowing whatever cracked concrete pavements remained between the bases of the scrapers. The dim light that filtered down from above wasn’t enough to penetrate the thick fog that blanketed the ground, but Dean could make out the subway entrance that Crowley had sent him coordinates for.

“Okay, Cas, we’re here. Let me just try to check in with Charlie before we go further.”

Dean tapped on his comm and after a few moments, Charlie’s voice could be heard quietly from the comm’s tiny speaker. “ _Dean?_ ”

“Charlie! We’re about to go underground. Any luck with cracking the nanites?”

“ _Actually, yes! I’m sending you a file to upload to your system. You’ll need to get it to Sam as well, when you find him. Should disable the nanites and protect you from being controlled. At least, I hope. It isn’t exactly tested_.”

“Got it. Thanks Charlie, we owe you one. Several, in fact.”

“ _Yeah, you just come back, okay? That’ll be enough_.”

“Talk to you soon.” Dean shut off the call and found the file that Charlie had sent. He loaded it up into his body system, then sent it to Cas as well. Once they were both covered, they moved towards the Metro entrance again, Castiel a few steps ahead on the concrete path, scanning the area.

He found himself staring at the Angel's back. The guy had been closed up tight, ever since Crowley had burst onto the scene, interrupting… whatever that was they had been about to do. The poor guy was apparently so unused to having feelings about anything that when he did, they overwhelmed him. Since then, he'd been single-minded and quiet, and although Dean was keen to get back to that conversation they'd been having in his bedroom, he didn't want to push. Besides, now was not exactly the time.

Dean heard a loud rumble and saw Castiel drop into a crouch. The ground shuddered, then fell still.

“What the hell was that?” Dean asked, looking around warily.

“An earthquake? I’ve heard they’re more noticeable at ground level.” Castiel didn’t sound sure.

“I hope that’s all it was. Come on, we need to get a move on.”

They passed under the steel structure above the Metro entrance, and headed down until they were swallowed by the dark. Dean's torch beam flicked back and forth across the steps. He could hear dripping water somewhere nearby, and the occasional skittering of tiny feet of some sort, but other than that, the silence was like a blanket.

Castiel descended purposefully, slightly ahead of him.

At the bottom of the staircase, there was a small foyer area. Dark openings led away to the left, marked with signs for platforms one and two.

Dean moved towards the platform entrances and realized they led to the same space, with a platform on each side. The space off the edge contained water almost up the edge of the platforms, lightly rippling in his torch light. Must be some movement in the water.

He turned to find Cas, but a flash of light at the other end of the platform caught his eye. A rectangle of light appeared—a door opening. Two figures stepped through the door, one of them unmistakably his giant brother.

He moved forward, letting out a breath of relief. “Sam! Thank fuck. Those Paradise dicks had me worried.”

Cas grabbed at his jacket and said, “Dean, wait,” just as Sam lifted his hand and threw a handful of fire at the ground between them.

Dean halted, staring at the line of fire across the platform. He looked up at his brother warily. “Sam? I've sent you a file. I need you to patch it in. It's important.”

Sam smirked, a look that the firelight distorted into something ugly. Something was very wrong here. Dean took a step back, and Sam's companion stepped forward into the light.

“Ruby,” he said, panic starting to clutch at his chest. He felt Cas put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “What’ve you done to him?”

Ruby looked worried, ashamed, even. But it was Sam who spoke. “Sorry, Sam's not here right now. He chose this.”

“Sammy?” Dean asked in a small voice. His pulse hammered in his throat. What was going on?

“Zachariah.” Castiel stepped forward, snarling.

Dean turned to stare at the Angel, then looked back to Sam’s face in horror.

Sam—or Zachariah—nodded. “The same. And thanks to your brother and Ruby here, the rest of the city is also under my control. Although, I notice you two seem to be curiously _yourselves_.”

“Never mind that. Get the fuck out of my brother, you piece of shit.” Dean started forward.

Zachariah raised a hand and a fireball glowed in his palm again. “I wouldn’t get any closer if I were you. Sam’s got a lot of juice right now, and I don’t mind char-grilling anyone who gets in my way.”

He moved forwards, waving his other hand to extinguish a small patch of flame. He and Ruby walked over it, towards Dean and Cas, but Castiel stepped sideways to stand between them and the exits.

“Leave Sam’s body, Zachariah. He’s not part of your plan.” Castiel scowled at Zachariah, his gun drawn and fired up, ready. He was pointing it at the ground, not at Zachariah, and for that, Dean was grateful.

They had to somehow knock Zachariah down, or knock him out. If Dean could get to Sam’s wrist, he could get into his comm and load the file for him. He had no idea if the virus would even work on nanites that were already activated, but it was the only shot they had, short of shooting him, and Dean didn’t want to do that.

He stepped forward, then stopped when his boot sploshed. He looked down. Water had crept across the concrete of the platform. He watched the tide of water as it reached the line of Zachariah’s fire, and snuffed it out. The platform was plunged back into darkness, illuminated only by frantically-waving flashlight beams.

Dean shouted, “The earthquake must have ruptured something in the tunnels! It’s about to get a lot wetter in here!”

Running, splashing footsteps made him swing his torch around. He made out the figure of Ruby making a run for the platform entrances. “Cas!” he called, and the Angel leaped and grabbed her before she could get any further. They went down in a tangle of limbs and rolled, wrestling, to the edge of the platform.

Dean had lunged after Zachariah and was brought up short by nothing. Zachariah held him in place in mid-air with his outstretched hand, then he flung Dean across the room like a rag doll. He crashed into a wall with a painful crunch, then fell into cold water and darkness.

The current was strong down here. Dean tried to struggle to the surface, but an agonising pain in his shoulder prevented him from moving his right arm. He tried to right himself with his legs but he had no idea how to move underwater. Swimming wasn’t really something he often did, living in the Midzone. His lungs started burning. He needed air, and fast. He flailed his left arm around and hit a wall. Scrabbling up, he found a ledge—the edge of the platform? He pulled up with all his might, and broke the surface with a gasp. He heaved himself up on the ledge, coughing and sputtering. The water was knee-deep at this end of the room now, and he scrambled to his feet to keep his head clear.

He grit his teeth against the pain in his shoulder as he wiped water from his eyes and looked around, realizing he’d been carried along the tracks to the other end of the platform. At the distant end, Zachariah was making full use of Sam’s power, firing fireballs and lightning bolts at Cas as he held Ruby close to him. The attacks were glancing off some kind of shield that Cas was projecting from his arm, or something similar. It seemed the Angel was a man of many talents.

Dean stepped forward and nearly stumbled on something under the water. He reached down and felt a loose piece of brick or stone. He picked it up, thinking it would be as good a weapon as any.

He waded forwards, trying to make as little splashing as he could, but the fire and electricity from the other end was almost deafening as it made a screeching noise against Cas’ shield. As Dean got close to Zachariah’s back, Ruby’s eyes widened as she saw him there. He quickly lined up and threw the brick at the back of Zachariah’s head. Rather than shout a warning, Ruby just watched as Zachariah went down with a splash. The water was only ankle-deep here, but Sam had fallen face-down, so Dean still rushed forward, pulling him up to sitting with his one working arm.

Castiel’s shield winked out with a _plink_ , and he yanked Ruby with him as he came over.

She protested, “I’m not going to hurt you. Let me go.”

Castiel looked at her, one eyebrow raised. “I don’t think so.”

Dean grabbed Sam’s arm and fired up his comm. He located the message he’d sent with the virus in it, and activated it. Sam moaned slightly, stirring.

Cas looked around them, alarmed. “I think we need to leave here. The water is still rising.”

He was right. The water was up to Dean’s waist where he was kneeling, holding Sam upright, but his arm was still useless. “I can’t move him. I think my arm’s dislocated.”

Sam shook his head, then scrambled away from Dean, splashing water around. He and Dean both staggered to their feet, staring at each other.

As Dean waited for him to show some sign one way or the other, Castiel and Ruby retreated further towards the exits. They were only a few metres away from the doors now, but an insistent current was pulling at their legs, threatening to suck them under.

Sam’s face slowly broke into a feral grin, and Zachariah spoke, “I’m gonna fry you alive for that, Winchester.”

Dean said, “No…” in disbelief and staggered back towards the exit, but when Zachariah raised Sam’s hands to attack, nothing happened. He looked down at his hands, puzzled, then tried again. A brief fizzing was all that he could muster. “What… what is…?” he said, then he fell back into the water.

“Sammy!” Dean shouted, and Castiel lurched forward with Ruby in tow.

“Take her.” He shoved Ruby at Dean, but she pushed away from him. She backed away, but didn’t make a run for the exit, instead holding her torch steady at the place where Sam had disappeared under the water.

Cas reached under the surface and hauled Sam out again by his jacket, pulling him to a standing position, draping one of Sam's arms over his shoulders. The water was waist-high and still rising, and they waded towards the entrances as fast as they could in the single flashlight beam. They scrambled up the stairs, and collapsed onto the pavement at the surface, panting.

Sam was out cold. Dean slapped at his face with his good hand, hoping that this time, it would be his brother who opened his eyes.

Castiel peered at Dean. “What’s wrong with your arm?”

“It got hurt when he threw me against the wall. Dislocated, maybe. I still managed a great shot to take him down though—did you see that?” he grinned.

Ruby rolled her eyes. “I helped you with your aim.”

“You what? What're you talking about?”

Ruby just wiggled her fingers, and Dean realized she meant she'd helped with magic.

“Hold still.” Castiel kneeled behind Dean, and held his elbow, bending his arm. “This won’t be pleasant. I’m sorry. On three. One…” he jerked Dean’s arm upwards and his shoulder popped back into place, making him cry out in agony.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Cas!”

“You’re welcome,” Castiel muttered, and turned to Sam, checking him over for injury.

Dean rubbed at his shoulder. The pain was already fading out, as his nanites went to work. He looked around the dim plaza around the station entrance. “You think that earthquake will make the whole city flood?”

“It wasn’t an earthquake. It was him.” Ruby gestured to Sam. “He started the Rapture. The spell was very powerful. I hope he’s gonna be okay.”

Dean stared at her. She was actually worried about Sam? Wow, they must have hit it off after all. “Look, Ruby, if that’s even your real name...” He paused as something occurred to him. “Why aren’t you all Zached up?”

Ruby looked unhappy. “I’m immune. I did my job, convincing Sam to take Elysium so he had plenty of juice, then tricking him into doing the spell to set the whole thing off. I didn’t know that Zachariah was gonna take him over, though. Zachariah said that people who took the actual drug would become his new agents, but I didn’t think he meant literal mind control like this. I didn’t want Sam to be hurt.”

Dean looked at her with disgust. But he found he couldn’t leave the blame with her. The Angels were brainwashed and commanded to carry out their orders. They didn’t exactly get a choice. He sighed. “We should kill you right here. You think Sam’s gonna be happy with you when he wakes up?”

“No, but I can help you. Just tell me what I can do,” she asked calmly.

Castiel frowned. “You can shut up and help me carry him. Dean’s in no position to lift anything.”

“No, I can help—” Dean began.

“No, Dean, rest your arm.”

“Yes, sir.” He grinned at the Angel as Cas lifted Sam under the shoulders. Ruby grabbed his legs, and they awkwardly shuffled away from the station entrance.

Dean walked ahead, his wet boots sloshing on the already muddy concrete. “Come on, the school’s just a few blocks up the street.”

  


Sam blinked and opened his eyes slowly. He closed them again, realizing he had the mother of all headaches.

He was lying on a hard bed, under a sheet. The room was dark. What had happened to him? He remembered going down into the dark subway… Creeping through tunnels, Lilith… _Ruby_. She'd betrayed him, tricked him into some other spell. Had he been unconscious all this time?

He shifted slightly, feeling his bare limbs shift against the sheets. Someone had undressed him, although he was wearing boxer briefs, at least.

The door opened with a creak, and footsteps entered. Sam lay still, breathing as slowly as he could until he could work out who it was. Someone sat down in a chair near the bed, grunting slightly. _Dean_.

Sam stirred, opening his eyes and shifting his legs slightly. He turned to look at his brother, attempting a smile.

Dean said, “Sammy?” and looked at Sam like he might give an answer he didn't want to hear. What the hell?

“Uh, yeah. It's me. You okay?”

Dean gave a relieved laugh and jumped up, leaning over to hug him. Dean hissed a breath in as he straightened up, and Sam eyed him, concerned.

“Are you hurt?”

Dean rubbed at his shoulder with his hand. “Shoulder’s fucked up again. It’s a long story. My little guys are still working on it. Anyway how are you? Head okay?”

Sam shook his head gingerly. “Nope. I feel like I cracked it.” He rubbed at a particularly sore spot on the back of his head. “What happened? Were you there? Where's Ruby?”

“Here.” Ruby entered the room, and Sam tried to sit up a bit more. The movement made his headache worse.

“Are you okay? Did we get the Elysium? Where are we, anyway?”

“So many questions!” She laughed.

Dean sat back down beside him and grimaced. “It's a long story, so I'll give you the short version. We’re in the sick bay at the school. The Angels are trying to use Elysium to control everyone in the city. The good news is, we have a way to block it.”

“I’m guessing there’s also bad news?” Sam asked, rubbing at his head again.

“We need to get it to everyone in the city. Oh, and you activated the Elysium and set off the Rapture.”

“What?!” Sam sat up again, crying out at the sharp pain in his head. “What the fuck’s the Rapture?”

“The spell you cast… it activated—” Ruby began, but stopped when Sam lunged for his gun, which was sitting a few feet away on a bedside table. The laser whined as it powered up, trained on Ruby. She stood frozen, hands up near her shoulders.

“Jesus, Sam, your arms are freaking long,” Dean said, from where he had jumped into a standing position. “Put the gun away. She's helping us now.”

Sam didn’t take his eyes off the Angel in the doorway. He held the gun steady. “Dean, she’s an Angel. She just drugged me, then tricked me into casting the spell! Why the fuck is she in here?”

Ruby came forward, slowly. “I didn’t know what would happen after the spell—I just thought we’d be able to go back up to the surface and disappear. I didn’t know… what would happen.”

“Where’s Castiel? Are all the Angels in on this? Wh—what…?” Sam dropped the gun slightly and put one hand to his forehead. It felt like something was trying to drill its way out from inside him.

“For fuck’s sake, give me that.” Dean grabbed the gun out of Sam’s hand and pushed him back by the shoulder. “You need to slow down! Just relax and I’ll tell you what’s been going on.”

Sam slumped back against his pillows, eyes closed. Why was Dean trusting Ruby? He’d heard her say something about a Rapture before he’d passed out. She’d certainly sounded like she’d got what she’d wanted.

Ruby touched his leg, where it lay under the sheets, and said in a small voice, “I’m glad you’re okay, Sam.” When Sam opened his eyes again, he saw her hurrying out of the room.

“Okay, so Cas and I went to Paradise…” Dean gave Sam a brief rundown of the last couple of days, right up until they pulled him out of the tunnel.

Sam was horrified. “So this Angel, Zachariah? He was inside my head?”

“He was inside your whole body. He threw fireballs at us, Sam.”

Sam flicked his fingers and a flame appeared between them. When Dean gasped, Sam said, “There must still be some Elysium in my system. I’ve been taking it. It makes me stronger. My magic, I mean.”

“What? Where’d you get that from?” Dean stared at Sam.

“Ruby had it. She gave some to me to try—it had no enchantment on it so I figured it wouldn’t hurt. It enhances the magic—makes it easier to use, more potent, I guess. It has a pretty sweet high, too,” he added with a wry grin.

“So she dosed you up before you cast the spell on Lilith’s stash?”

“Yep. So why are we trusting her, again?”

“Because she helped us get you down so we could get Charlie’s virus into you. She wants to help.”

“And you trust her?”

“I dunno. Maybe. With her, we have a vague chance of pulling this off and saving the city. Otherwise, we’re up shit creek.”

Sam sighed. “We’re stuck here, aren’t we? We can’t go home.”

Dean was quiet for a moment. “Not yet. We’ve got to get the virus to the population of the city. You rest now, and we’ll plan when you’re feeling better.”  He stood up, squeezing Sam’s arm gently with one hand.

“Yeah, okay.” Sam struggled to sit up. “But maybe after I’ve found the bathroom.”

  


Castiel eyed Ruby as she retreated from the sick bay. They’d only been at the school a few hours. The Angels were quiet on the comms—he guessed to keep whatever they were up to secret from Ruby and himself. Garth paced up and down the staff meeting room they were currently occupying, muttering to himself. He’d been pleased to see them alive, and had welcomed them in at first, but now that they had given him a rundown of what was going on, he was understandably anxious.

The fact that Garth seemed to be unaffected by the Elysium was puzzling, until Dean murmured to Castiel that Garth didn’t have a nanotech network in his body. He guessed that was one loophole Paradise hadn’t planned for.

“Is he awake?” Castiel asked, as Ruby came across the room, a worried frown on her face.

She glanced up at Castiel. “Yes, he’s fine. Castiel, did you know Zachariah was planning this… mass mind-control?”

“Not until I heard it from Dean this morning. How much of it did you know?”

“None. I knew the spell was to trigger the Rapture, but I was told the Rapture was going to be a glorious thing, that it would make the people happy. Then Sam started talking with Zachariah’s voice, and I couldn’t—I just…” She stopped.

Castiel watched the emotions play across her face, but he was at a loss. This whole day had been a whirlwind of confusion from start to end. He wondered if Ruby felt the same. One thing was clear to him, though. He had to protect Dean and Sam. There was no other mission for him now.

“I won’t let you turn them in,” he said firmly.

“What? No, I won’t do that. I don’t want to see anyone hurt, especially now that I…” Ruby trailed off, again looking as confused as Castiel felt.

“We’re built to protect—to serve.”

Ruby frowned. “Yes, but if you were commanded to reveal their location, there’s little you could do against it.”

Castiel stared at her. She was right—as long as they stayed with the Winchesters, they’d be in danger. They may already be. The school may be. The thought was like a kick to the chest.

Ruby continued, oblivious to his epiphany. “They’re already in complete control of us. This has to stop. How many times have they wiped our minds, reprogrammed us? It’s slavery. We’re not robots! We need to do something to help the other Angels.”

Dean and Sam both emerged from the sick bay, hearing the last part. Sam barely glanced at them before stumbling off towards the bathroom, while Dean came forward, hand raised. “Whoa, hold on there, sweetheart. Let’s just save the city first. Then you guys can work out how to save your… people.”

“Any bright ideas on how to do that?” Ruby glared at Dean.

Dean glared back for a moment, then turned away. “Let me call Charlie. I want to hear what she thinks.”

He poked at his comm and a short time later, Charlie's voice came through the tinny speaker. “ _Dean! Where've you been? They've set off the Rapture!_ ”

Dean have a short huff, “We're aware. What's going on up there?”

“ _The city is so quiet—I don't know what they've done, ordered everyone to stay home or something. I only gave the virus to Kevin so far, so we're holed up in the lab. Did you find Sam?_ ”

“Yes, I'm here,” Sam said as he shuffled over to slump at one of the tables.

“ _Oh, thank God."_

“We've also got Ruby and Cas with us. Look, Charlie, how can we get your file to the city?”

“ _I've been tweaking it to make it so that the recipient doesn't have to accept it for it to work, but it will still need to be distributed. Best way would be to get into their control centre itself, but since that's pretty much impossible I can probably come up with some other_ —”

“Actually, we could do it that way,” Castiel interrupted.

Dean looked perplexed. “What do you mean? You're not suggesting…?”

Castiel looked to Ruby. “Ruby, does Zachariah know that you’re with us?”

“As far as I know, he knows you captured me. That's all.”

Castiel glanced at Dean, then back to Ruby. “What if you ‘escape’ from here, and take Charlie's virus to paradise?”

“I could. I could convince someone to have it sent out. I could hack the communication lines myself, if I had to--”

“No,” Sam interrupted. “There's no way Zachariah would let you through that door without a memory wipe.”

“That's why I'll be going too.” Castiel was firm.

“What, Cas? No!” Dean looked horrified.

“Dean, I'm the only one of us who can help. She gets me in, I get into the system, we get out.”

“But, you—”

“If I stay here, you'll be in danger. We might already have led them here.”

“What?” Garth said, a panicked look in his eyes.

“He's right,” Ruby added. “We're being tracked already.”

Charlie's voice came through the comm again. “ _I can probably rig something to block the tracking, but it's going to take me a while_.”

Castiel was relieved. He'd keep hoping that Charlie would be able to free him of his shackles to Paradise. Now that he'd seen what they were capable of, he desperately wanted to be free of their control.

Garth turned to Dean, who took in his white face and wide eyes. “It's okay, dude. Sam ‘n I'll stay here in case you need backup.” He turned back to Castiel, a look in his eyes that Castiel didn't understand, but that sent a warm shiver down to his toes. “Cas, you know what could happen if you're caught up there.”

Worried. Dean was worried about him. The warmth intensified in his face and chest and the emotion regulator warning flashed at the corner of his vision again. He'd been staring too long again. Better say something. “Don't worry about me. You just stay safe and hidden down here.”

Dean looked back at Sam. His brother shrugged one shoulder. Dean sighed. “All right. A shitty plan's better than no plan, I guess.”

Ruby nodded. “We'll leave right away.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **LAPD Drug Register**  
>  Compiled by Sam Winchester
> 
> Known mutations and bad enchantments:
> 
>  **Banshee**  
>  Origin: Localised to Hollywood  
> Effects: A bad batch of Djinn that caused the users to hallucinate screaming.
> 
>  **Leviathan**  
>  Origin: Top-12, nightclub known as "Purgatory"  
> Effects: A bad batch of Pishtaco that caused users to secrete black goo from orifices. A few fatalities but many survived. Resulted in widespread hysteria after the entertainer Mystic Meg reported on her show that those affected were flesh-eating monsters.


	9. Chapter 9

They had very little to prepare, so Castiel and Ruby headed towards the front of the school. It seemed that the Demons hadn't escaped the influence of Elysium, and had disappeared from guarding the school for now. Dean wondered if Crowley was affected.

Dean hooked his breather around the back of his head, then pulled Ruby aside as they left the school building. He swallowed down his anger at her treatment of Sam, and focused on Cas instead.

“Ruby… is he okay?” he asked, nodding towards Cas where he was standing near Ruby’s bike, gazing upwards into the fog. He wondered for a moment whether the Angel could see more through the haze than the rest of them could.

Ruby shrugged one shoulder. “Something’s going on with him.”

Dean gave her a flat look. “I know that, genius. I was hoping you’d have more than that.”

Ruby flicked her hair over her shoulder. “Shut up, dumbass. He'll be fine.”

Dean paused, considering whether he should ask or not. “Hey, tell me something. Cas told me that you Angels are conditioned not to feel emotion, to keep that stuff in check. Why is it that you and Sam…were together?”

Ruby raised one eyebrow. “If you’re asking whether I was taking advantage of your brother, then yes, at first I was. I’m an operative—trained to blend in with society. I’m allowed feelings, and I… grew fond of Sam. I hope he can forgive me eventually. But Castiel, he’s a soldier, programmed for efficiency and focus. His empathy was blocked, so that he wouldn’t feel anything. I can see the way he looks at you, though. You’re helping him to break through that. He’s feeling, and he’s confused.”

Dean nodded, and Ruby moved over to her bike. The electric engine whined as it started up.

He moved across the gangway to stand next to Cas, looking out into the murky night. Dim light filtered down from above, and sounds were muffled, but it seemed that life still went on up in the Midzone.

Castiel turned to face Dean. “Where will you go?”

Dean continued looking upwards for a few more moments. What was he gonna tell the Angel? He turned to look at him. Castiel’s blue eyes were full of sadness.

Dean sighed. “It’s probably best if I don’t tell you, isn’t it? Just in case they…” He couldn’t continue. “If you’re looking for us later, go to the precinct. Someone there will know how to get in touch with us.”

Cas nodded. “Thank you, Dean. For everything.”

Dean blinked at him. “What’re you thanking me for? I’ve done nothing but fuck up your life.”

Castiel stepped closer. “No! You helped me to see what the city is really like, not just the way that Paradise wants me to see it. You helped me break free, Dean. I can never thank you enough for that.”

“You don't have to thank me. Just… come back, okay?” Dean grabbed Cas’ sleeve and pulled him into a hug. Castiel stood there, rigid, then slowly softened and put his arms around Dean. Dean cursed the awkward breather on his face, but still smiled at Cas as he pulled back. “I’ll see you later.”

Castiel nodded soberly, and turned to join Ruby on the bike, swinging his leg over to sit behind her. They zoomed off and around the corner, to join the upward traffic.

Dean let out a breath with a huff and turned to where Sam was sitting on a bench near the front doors of the school.

Sam looked awful, with deep circles under his eyes and a miserable droop to his shoulders. He lifted a hand to rub at one eye, and said, “Now what?”

Dean frowned at him. “Now we find somewhere to hole up so you can rest. You look like shit.”

“Dean, I'm fine,” his brother protested, blinking his eyes a few times.

“Yeah, sure, and I'm the King of Las Vegas.”

He helped Sam up and they hobbled back inside the school building. Garth was still pacing nervously in the hallway, but he came to a halt when he saw the Winchesters there, taking off their breathers.

Sam straightened up, saying to Dean, “Are you sure it's a good idea to stay here? I don't want to put these guys in danger.”

Dean grimaced. “It was the Angels that were being tracked, not us, remember? Zach’s goons could already be on their way.”

Garth surged forward, grabbing Dean by his shoulder, right on the tender spot where he was still healing. He had never seen such a wild look in the teacher's eyes.

“Tell me you're gonna stay. I've sent the children home, but the rest of us aren't equipped to deal with an attack.”

Dean glanced at Sam. They were hardly in a condition to fight anyone. “I doubt they would outright attack, Garth. But we're not going anywhere, okay?”

Garth blew out a tight breath. “Thank you. We have a spare apartment, you know. The levels above the school are empty—you could hole up there?”

“Thanks, Garth.” Dean smiled grimly. Hiding down here was as good as anywhere.

Garth led them up to the top level of the school, past darkened classrooms and the empty cafeteria. A locked door led to a staircase. At the top, Garth hit a switch with a clunk and lights flickered on, revealing a large space with a double-height ceiling and a table in the centre. At one end of the room up a couple of steps was what appeared to be a library, with shelves of real, paper books extending into darkness.

Sam asked Garth, “What is this? Some kind of storage facility?”

“Kind of. This part of this scraper was owned by this really old guy, who collected and archived a load of stuff when paper supplies ran out. Or maybe it was the guy before him. Anyway, I wouldn't breathe too deeply in here. Who knows what kind of bugs live in centuries-old wood pulp.” Garth's spirits had lifted somewhat as he'd brought them up here.

Sam shuffled over to the table, sitting down in a chair heavily and resting his head on his arms.

As Dean looked around, he couldn't help but wonder whether Lydia had known about this place when she first scouted it out for the school. She loved old things, loved to study history and what it had been like on the ground. The always-present ache in his chest when he thought of her was less lately. He had a feeling he knew what, or rather who, was responsible for that.

“Thanks, Garth,” he said, walking over to the table to join Sam.

“Get some rest. I'll call if anything goes down.” Garth nodded to them and left, closing the door behind him with a solid clang.

Sam looked up at Dean. His eyes were red, and he looked ready to sleep where he sat.

Dean walked away, up towards the stairs to the shelves with the paper books. Before he could go far, his comm buzzed.

“ _Hey, Dean, just checking in_.” Charlie's voice sounded in his ear.

“Hey kid,” he said quietly, so he wouldn't disturb Sam.

“ _Have the Angels left? I think I've worked out how to disable their tracking, but I'll need to see them in person to fit a blocker_.”

Dean frowned. “Sorry, they left right away. Hopefully we can sort them out later. Thanks for looking into it though.”

“ _Where are you right now?_ ”

“Safe.”

“ _Okay. ‘Cause if you need me to come get you, I could probably acquire a squad car_.”

As Dean was about to reply, Sam cried out, clutching at his head.

“Sammy?” Dean ran back down the stairs and over to the table. Sam looked like he was in agony, pulling at his hair and gasping for breath.

Charlie's voice was still in his ear. “ _Ouch! Don't shout like that! What's going on? Dean?_ ”

Sam took his hands out of his hair, getting his breath back for a few moments, then looked up at Dean again. “Dean, it's Cas. He's… he's in trouble.”

Ice spread through Dean's stomach. “Charlie? About that car.”

  


Ruby stepped out of the door near the elevator, then gestured for Castiel to follow her. He crept out into the corridor near the garden and they hurried forward to get under the cover of vegetation. Dim sunlight filtered in from the eastern windows.

Ruby turned to him and smiled grimly. “Right, so far so good. I'll create some kind of diversion so you can get into the communications area, okay?”

“Okay, ” Castiel answered, nodding. “So I'll just… wait here then?”

She nodded as well. “You'll know when it's time to move.” With a squeeze to his shoulder, she moved back into the path, heading for the garden entrance. Castiel watched her through the branches, an unfamiliar clenching in his gut. His emotion regulator spiked again, and he wished there was some way to stop the calming dose his body pumped into him. He was gonna need all the adrenaline he could get.

As Ruby neared the door it opened, revealing a group of Angels led by a tall, dark man. Ruby recoiled in surprise but recovered quickly. Uriel scowled at her as the group walked forward.

“Uriel! I was just coming to look for you.”

“What are you doing here, Ruby?” he sneered, looking behind her.

“They… he… Dean Winchester. He took me prisoner. I was being held in the Groundzone but I managed to escape. I've come to warn you!”

Castiel frowned at the lie, hoping the other Angels would buy it.

Uriel’s face remained a static mask. “Warn us? Why should we believe anything you say? We know you were shacked up with one of them—the witch.”

“Well, yes, it was part of my cover—”

Uriel’s voice was tempered steel. “Take her to reconditioning. We'll see how much of her story is true.”

Castiel sucked in a breath. If she was reconditioned, he'd be on his own. He shifted forwards, ready to attack if necessary.

The other Angels moved forward, and Ruby held out her hands to hold them off. “Wait! Listen! I brought you something, to show my good faith!”

The Angels hesitated, and Ruby continued. “I managed to subdue the rogue, Castiel. He's hiding in the bushes over there.” She pointed.

Castiel blinked. This wasn't in the plan. What was she doing?

Two Angels came over towards him, and he fought down a moment of panic before his regulators picked up their calming dosage again. What could he do? He didn't want to kill any of his brothers or sisters.

He lashed out at the first one to reach him, a young woman named Aniel. She cried out in surprise and went down, clutching at her face. Castiel tried to grapple with Micah, but the other Angels arrived to grab him, seizing his gun and dragging him out to the centre of the path.

He struggled, panting. Tasting something metallic in his mouth, he spat to one side. Blood.

"Well, well, Castiel, you have been busy.” Uriel looked him over like he was something stuck to his shoe.

Castiel looked at Ruby, who was watching impassively from beside Uriel. “Ruby, what are you doing?” he whispered.

Ruby didn't even flinch. “I'm sorry, Castiel. Did you really think I'd just lead you back in here to hide? Did you think the Angels would just accept you, after what you've done?”

Castiel stared at her. He knew what she was doing—this was her diversion. But the fact that he had betrayed the Angels was true. He would never be welcome in Paradise again. He shouldn’t have come back. Something clenched painfully in his chest before his nanites scrambled to keep his physiology in check.

Uriel said with disdain, “Take him to reconditioning. We've been trialling a new procedure. One where your mind will become a blank slate, ready for retraining as a soldier of Paradise.”

Castiel squared his shoulders and narrowed his eyes. “And if I refuse?”

Uriel’s voice stayed flat, neutral, as he stared at Castiel. “Then you will be shut down.”

He turned abruptly, stalking out of the garden, Ruby a step behind him. Two of the remaining Angels grabbed Castiel by the shoulders and pushed him roughly towards the door as well.

As they marched him into a white corridor and turned away from the direction Uriel and Ruby and the other Angels had gone, Castiel wondered whether there was any point struggling. He had failed Dean. He and Sam had put their trust in him, and he'd fucked it up. He slumped miserably between the two Angels, but they dragged him along, one of them muttering, “Come on, traitor.”

He didn’t know what to make of Ruby. Had she just betrayed him, or used him to give herself a chance to continue the mission? Perhaps he should never have trusted her in the first place, or believed her Angels-as-slaves rhetoric. Why hadn't she told Uriel about Charlie's virus in the garden? Unless she was waiting to deliver that news to Zachariah himself. He had to believe that she had turned against him. He had to try to complete the mission. Maybe he still had time.

If he were to get away from these two, would he be able to hide somewhere? To get to a computer and hack into the comm system? He eyed the Angel to his left, Micah. He was shorter than Castiel, but that didn't mean he would be any easier to take down.

 _There_ , at the corner, he'd jump them and break free. He tensed, then twisted to the left, surprising Micah with a fist to the jaw. The other Angel grabbed his arm more firmly, but Castiel swung him around into the wall with a crack. He smacked the guy's head against the wall again, and he slumped to the floor, insensible, just as he'd done with the med techs when he'd rescued Dean. That felt like a lifetime ago.

Castiel turned around, looking for a place to hide. A door opened in front of him, a bright light from the room beyond momentarily dazzling him. A sharp pain stabbed into the meat of his shoulder, and the world started to go dark around the edges. He heard a voice, as he fell into darkness, “Ah, Castiel. There you are. I've been waiting for you.”

 _Zachariah_ …

  


Castiel blinked against a bright light shining in his eyes. Had he been asleep? He didn't often need to sleep, but now and then his body needed recharging. This didn't feel much like a recharge, though. His head ached and there was something over his mouth. He coughed and tried to sit forward, but he was restrained in the upright chair he was sitting in. In the reconditioning unit.

In a sudden panic, he flinched against his bonds, but he was tied down fast.

Zachariah moved into Castiel's vision. “Wakey, wakey, Castiel. I need you alert for this procedure so I can make sure it's working.” Another man moved into view from Castiel’s other side, one he didn't recognise, wearing a white coat. The man fitted some kind of headpiece around his head, full of wires and sharp electrodes.

Castiel tried to speak, to beg them to let him go, but the band across his mouth made talking impossible. He stared at Zachariah, eyes wide, as the man fiddled with the headpiece. A constellation of warning lights appeared on the edges of his vision as his heart rate spiked.

Zachariah smiled coldly. “Don't worry, this will all be over soon.”

Castiel frantically composed a message to Dean and tried to send it, but all he got was a warning message: _Network access denied_. What had they done to him?

The man in the white coat disappeared and started clicking a keypad over to Castiel's left. A high-pitched whine started in Castiel's ears, and he flinched, uncomfortable. The whine grew in volume and a sharp pain bloomed behind Castiel's eyes. He didn't want to forget! He needed to remember—Dean, the Elysium, Ruby, Sam, _Dean_ …

He let out a muffled scream as the pain became intense, throbbing with his heartbeat. The white room faded and he was standing outside the school, hugging Dean.

He was inside Dean's room, reaching for him.

He was carrying Dean out of the warehouse in the Groundzone.

He was receiving orders from Paradise.

He was training, sleeping, eating and training again as the featureless years went by.

He was standing outside an apartment in the Topzone, the sun shining down on the gardens along the edge of the walkway. A brown-haired woman in a black dress bent her head down to kiss his forehead, tears in her eyes. He looked up at her. “Mom?”

  


Sam crept along the white corridor, Dean two steps behind. He gently reached out to sense if there was anyone one the other side of the next door they came to, but it was empty.

Dean made a frustrated noise, and when Sam turned to look at him, he whispered, “This could take hours. We need to find a computer, see if we can hack in.”

Sam turned back to the corridor. He knew this was the corridor he'd seen in the vision. Two Angels had been dragging Castiel down here, and they'd gone into one of these rooms, he was sure of it. He reached further, but only got a vague hum of life in the building around them, besides the bright flame of his brother’s presence behind him. He needed more…

With a start, he remembered the half pill still in his pocket from earlier that day. He turned to Dean again. “I'm gonna take some more Elysium.”

Dean's jaw dropped. “What? Why?!”

“It's an enhancer, remember? It'll help me to find Cas and Ruby.”

Dean shook his head. “No. No, that shit’s gonna fuck up your brain, Sam.”

Sam nodded patiently. His brother had never been okay with him using his powers. Why would he start now? “Dean, it's fine. If we want to find them, this is the fastest way.”

Dean frowned. “Won't you be all…” he waved a hand, “spaced or something?”

“A half dose doesn't affect me that much. Just, take this.” He handed over his gun. “If Charlie's virus isn't working anymore, it's probably best if I don't get twitchy with that.”

Dean looked slightly green at that, but nodded.

Sam dug around in his pocket and pulled out the tiny packet with its precious contents. He tipped the pill into his hand, then knocked it back, swallowing it dry. The rush came in gradually as it usually did, and he raised his hand, letting a swirl of purple sparks twist around his fingers, making Dean gasp.

He let his consciousness expand, and found he could pinpoint several people in rooms around them, plus more on floors above and below. He found Ruby easily, a floor up in a cluster of others. He was still unsure about how he felt about her using him for his magic, but he ignored her for now and kept scanning for Cas. He found him at the end of the corridor they were standing in. Cas’ energy was bright with pain.

“This way. There are two others with him,” he murmured, and Dean let out a long breath.

“Are you sure?”

Sam didn't bother answering, just ran off down the corridor, his feet feeling like they had wings. He stopped outside the door, waiting for Dean to catch up.

Dean lifted the gun and gave Sam a nod, and Sam lifted his hand, taking hold of the structure of the door and ripping it to shreds. The door splintered into shards of plastic, exploding into the room. Dean jumped in brandishing his gun, but dropped it when he saw Castiel. Sam could see the Angel strapped to a chair on one side of the room, so he burst through the door and faced the two men on the other side, as Dean cried out, “Oh no, no. Cas?” Dean rushed over to check on him.

Sam quickly assessed the two men. The shorter one wore a white coat and was obviously terrified, while the other, older man was wearing a grim smile to match his charcoal suit.

Suit-guy spoke, “Sam Winchester, I presume? Nice to finally meet you face to face.”

Dean growled from behind Sam, “Zachariah? What’ve you done to him, you dick?”

Sam stared hard at the guy. _Zachariah_ , the guy who had locked Dean up, controlled the Angels and masterminded the whole Elysium scheme.

Zachariah said, “I wouldn't touch him, Dean. We're giving his brain a deep clean. It's an  experimental process and I'm not really sure what would happen if we stopped halfway.”

Both Dean and Sam turned to stare at Cas’ still form in horror. The two other Angels took the opportunity to run for the door. Sam reacted first and grabbed the white coat as he barged past, slamming him against the door frame and sending a bolt of magic into him, knocking him out cold. Zachariah, though, was off down the corridor. Sam cursed and ducked out after him.

  


Dean watched Sam leap out the door after Zachariah, while the other man slumped to the floor. Better make sure Cas was okay before going after him. The Angel was flinching in his seat, moaning weakly. “Cas? It's okay, buddy. Let's get you out of this.” He started pulling the headset off Castiel's head, and disconnected electrodes in his interface ports. Cas jerked once, and went limp.

Dean blinked. “Cas!” He shook Cas’ shoulder roughly.

The Angel’s eyes opened, then shut again against the bright lights. He blinked a few times. “Dean? How are you here?”

Dean let out a breath of relief. “You remember me? Thank fuck.”

“I remember… everything.” Cas looked away from Dean, staring into the distance, mechanisms in his eyes moving.

 _Okay, that's weird_. As he worked to free Cas from his restraints, Dean tried not to remember their trip up to the Topzone with Charlie. After Sam's vision, she'd brought one of the squad cars down to meet them at the school. She'd dropped them some distance away from the Paradise building, and on their walk there they'd had their first taste of the new Elysium city. It was quiet—no horns, no music, and no laughter. The citizens went about their business like automatons, perfectly composed. It was unnerving, kind of like the way Cas was behaving right now.

The Angel was still staring into space. Dean grabbed one of Castiel's arms and tried to help him up. “C’mon, buddy, can you stand? We need to go.”

Cas got to his feet, but stumbled for a moment while Dean steadied him.

“You okay?” Dean asked, worried.

“I think so,” Cas rumbled. “My head is spinning, though. Where's Sam? How did you get here?”

“He ran after Zach. Can you move?”

Cas nodded and they headed out the door, heading up the corridor towards where Dean could hear a commotion. As they drew closer to the main entrance foyer, he could see bodies lying on the floor. Sam was standing in the middle of the room, one hand outstretched towards Zachariah, who was spread-eagled against the tall windows opposite the front doors, several feet off the ground.

“Now Sam, let's be reasonable here,” Zachariah gasped out, trying to move his limbs.

Dean could see the tendons standing out on Sam's neck as he strained to hold him there. They needed to get what they could out of the boss angel before Sam ran out of juice.

Before he could say anything, though, Cas strode forward. He stood right underneath Zachariah and started speaking so quietly that Dean had to move forward to hear what he was saying.

“You took all of us away from our families for your cyborg army, and when we started to show our humanity, you wiped it away. It's little more than slavery, and you're a sick, twisted piece of shit.” Castiel was snarling as he turned and grabbed Sam's gun out of Dean's hand. He started it up with a whine, and he pointed it right at Zachariah’s chest.

Zachariah’s eyes widened. “Now… now Castiel, I've always looked after you. I've only been trying to do what's best for the city!”

Castiel scowled. “No, now you're trying to turn the rest of the city into machines. We won't let you do that.” He hefted the gun in his hand, and said, grimly, “This is for all of us.”

Zachariah cried out, “No, wait, what about—”

His words were cut short when Castiel fired the laser right through Zachariah’s chest. He coughed up blood. Cracks spread out in the window behind him.

Dean looked back to Sam for a moment—blood was leaking from his nose and he was breathing heavily, but before Dean could run to him, the glass window gave way and shards flew out into the space beyond, glimmering in the sunlight. Zachariah followed, his mouth open in a silent scream. Dean spun back around and grabbed Cas’ arm before he could follow.

A shout came from a side corridor. “What have you done?” Uriel bellowed as he strode into the room.

Sam turned and flung a hand towards him, throwing a fireball right at the Angel. With a scream, Uriel fell to the ground, the flames quickly engulfing him. The other angels backed away from his burning body and ran back down the corridor.

Dean pulled Cas towards Sam just as Sam slumped to his knees. He rubbed at his face and looked at his bloodied hand with a confused look, then he turned frightened eyes up to Dean.

Dean swallowed his worry down and grabbed at Sam's arm. “Come on, the Angels will be back. We gotta get out of here.”

He and Cas pulled Sam up between them and hurried out of the front door of Paradise, bracing themselves against the wind as they crossed the bridge. As they scurried away into the Topzone, Dean glanced towards Cas to see if he was okay to help take Sam's weight. The Angel's face was wet with tears.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **LAPD Drug Register**  
>  Compiled by Sam Winchester
> 
>  **Elemental earth/fire/water/air**  
>  Base: sucrose   
> Appearance: Can be taken as powder, but most often dissolved into liquid. Colored based on the element: brown for earth, red for fire, dark blue for water and light blue or white for air.  
> Enchantment effects: Temporary visual effects: Change of eye color, shimmer on the skin. Those with magical talent may be able to produce colored light effects. Wears off in a few hours.  
> Known side effects: This party drug is most commonly associated with douchebaggery. No side effects.


	10. Chapter 10

The Topzone was usually busy at mid-morning, but under Elysium, it was subdued. People still hurried along the gangways on their way to work or home again, but there was no idle conversation or laughter.

Dean and Castiel struggled along, supporting Sam between them. Sam himself was barely walking, his face turned down and eyes shut. Dean kept glancing worriedly at him. Charlie's meeting point was just a little way ahead. If they could at least make it there, they'd be okay.

They turned a corner to follow a narrow gap between two scrapers, and met two men, obviously waiting for them.

Dean and Cas came to an abrupt stop. Dean gave a half-grin. “Uh, hey guys. Mind if we just get past?”

“You will come with us,” the taller man said, his voice expressionless.

Dean looked behind them and saw another man and a woman behind them, fencing them in. He tried to pull his gun, but Cas stopped him. “Don't hurt them. They're controlled by Elysium—they don't know what they're doing.”

Dean eyed the tall man as he stepped forward. “I dunno, man. If he tries to hurt us I'm gonna hurt him back.”

The Angel-controlled people moved forward slowly, but just as one of them was about to make a grab for Dean, the guy dropped his hand, blinking. He looked around, confusion written across his face.

Dean stared at the guy. Was the control slipping?

The other people had also stopped moving, blinking in place. One of them said, “Excuse me, but I seem to have lost my way. Where are we?”

The guy who had been about to grab Dean finally focused on the three men standing in front of him. “Oh goodness, you're hurt. Can I call you an ambulance?”

Dean let out a laugh in disbelief. “No thanks, buddy, we're good.”

The man stumbled out of the alley, back into the sunlight, followed by the others.

Dean looked at Cas, and was nearly blinded by the smile on the Angel’s face. “The virus—it worked.”

“But how did it…? Ruby?”

Sam's knees buckled and Cas and Dean scrambled to hold him up. “Let's save the celebration until we find Charlie.” Dean smiled grimly.

A few blocks on they found Charlie, looking frantic in the squad car. She jumped out, helping them to load Sam into the back as she chattered away. “There you are! I was starting to wonder if I should be heading in there myself! What happened to Sam? Cas, you look terrible. Are you all right, Dean?”

“We're fine, Charlie. Just take a quick look at Sam so we can get the hell out of here.”

Charlie let out a relieved breath. “Okay, but you're driving. I can't deal with the traffic up here. Also, I have the device to stop them tracking you, Castiel. Just hold still and I'll sort it out now so we won't be followed.”

She opened the passenger door and fished around in a bag, coming out with a tiny metal plate and a scalpel. “I'm sorry, it's going to have to go on your interface implant.”

Dean left them to it, and jumped in the back of the car next to Sam. His brother's head was tipped back against the headrest, his eyes closed. His face was pale, making the blood dried on his skin stand out dark red.

“Sammy?”

Sam's eyes opened a sliver as he looked over at Dean. “‘m okay. Just… tired. Very thirsty. ”

Charlie opened the door again, waving Dean out. He went around to the driver's seat and got in, while Charlie plugged her scanner into Sam's comm port. Cas sat heavily in the front passenger side, resting his own head back on the head rest.

Charlie pressed on her device's screen. “Elysium levels are still high—probably the only thing keeping you conscious right now. It's a nervous system stim. Used to be called methamphetamine back when chemical drugs were more common.”

Dean laughed, “Only you could give us a lesson when we're on the run, Charlie. What's the diagnosis?”

“I’m pretty sure he's gonna be fine, as long as he doesn't use any Elysium or magic for a little while. You're gonna have a hell of a withdrawal after this. Sorry, Sam.” She pulled the cable free and stashed her scanner. “Let's go.”

  


It was clear as they drove down to the Midzone levels that the Elysium was finished—horns blared, and cars changed lanes or levels with no indication. Dean smiled. His city was back to normal. “Charlie,” he asked, “did you find some way to get the virus out after all?”

“No, I thought that was something you guys did. What happened with Ruby, anyway? Why isn't she with you?”

Cas spoke for the first time since Zachariah’s death. “She turned me in.”

“She what?” Charlie sounded shocked, but Dean wasn't totally surprised. He'd been against trusting her as soon as he found out she was an Angel. Guess she didn't feel that fond of Sam after all.

“No, I don't think she meant to betray us. She was discovered leaving the garden—they were going to take her to reconditioning. So she used me as her diversion to get herself clear.”

Dean spat, “That bitch. She threw you to the lions, Cas!”

“It was ruthless, yes. But she must have loaded the virus and sent it out while we were fighting in the entrance hall. She completed the mission.”

Dean threw Cas an incredulous look. How was he so calm about this? Dean was torn between hating Ruby for ditching Cas like that, and being grateful that she managed to get the virus out after all.

The trip all the way to the Groundzone took another hour, most of which Sam slept through and the rest of them stayed quiet. Dean suspected something was on Castiel's mind, although it was hard to tell from the Angel’s stony expression.

Charlie was reading her tablet, occasionally commenting on newsfeed stories. It seemed that the city hadn't realized anything had been different for the last twenty-four hours—it was business as usual. Mystic Meg had apparently come out with a story that LA had mysteriously lost a day, but only her fans were putting any belief in that.

Dean parked the squad car a block up from the school. Sam stirred as the car powered down, looking around bleary-eyed. Dean fit his and Sam's breathers, then offered him a shoulder again, and they stumbled to the school's front entrance, Cas and Charlie following.

Inside, they met a sight that stopped them short. Crowley stood alone in the middle of the foyer.

They all stood and looked at each other for a few moments, then Crowley spoke up, “Hello, boys.” His eyes found Charlie standing behind Dean with Cas, and he added with a smile, “Who's your friend?”

So the Demon was himself. Dean hadn't been sure for a few moments. “Never you mind, Crowley. What do you want?”

The Demon stepped forward. “I’m here to complete our deal. I assume you’ve dealt with the Elysium problem?”

“Yes, we… we think so,” Sam replied, swaying a little beside Dean.

“I figured as much, when I woke up from this morning’s suicidal depression. So, the Demons will stay away from your little school here, and,” he paused, pointing at Dean, “the LAPD stays out of my affairs.”

That cheeky asshole. “I don't recall that being part of the deal,” Dean replied, coolly. “We took out your competition. That's all the favors we owe you, right, Sam?”

Sam looked awful when Dean turned to look at him, his face ashen and exhausted. He blinked at the Demon and muttered, “Sounds about right.”

Crowley raised one eyebrow at Sam, then looked back to Dean. “You'd better put your brother to bed before he throws up on my shoes.”

“Shut up, Crowley. Just go take care of your people and I'll do mine.”

Crowley turned away. “Whatever.” He turned on his heel and stalked out the door. Dean had a feeling he’d be seeing the Demon king again before long.

Sam went to sit down on one of the benches along the wall, while the others stayed standing together.

Dean spoke quietly, “Charlie, we can’t come back to the station. The Angels are gonna be looking for us.”

“I know. Have you got somewhere you can lay low? It could be for a while, you know that, right?” Charlie looked sad.

“Yeah, we do. And we’ll hang out there, at least until Sam’s back on his feet.” Dean glanced back over at his brother, who was leaning back against the concrete wall, his eyes closed again.

“Okay. Are you sure you don't want me to stay? I can help.”

“I'd rather you were safely back at the station. We'll be in touch soon, okay?”

“You'd better!” she said, punching him in the arm.

Dean hugged her, and she hugged Cas as well as he murmured his thanks. Then she sat down beside Sam to give him instructions.

“I don’t want to hear that you’ve been out of your bed for at least two days, you got me? Drink loads of water. And call me tomorrow morning, okay?”

Sam just nodded, eyes still closed.

Dean grinned as Charlie stood up. “We're gonna need to get him to a bed before he passes out right here, aren’t we?” Dean asked.

“Yes,” Charlie replied, seriously. “I’ve given him all the painkillers I have and the dosage is maxed, but he’s gonna be hurting when he wakes up.”

“Okay. Come on, Sammy. Cas, give me a hand, here?”

Between them, Cas and Dean supported Sam as they headed for their secret apartment. They managed to get Sam up the stairs and into a bedroom without too much cursing.

Back in what he was starting to think of as the “living room”, Dean slumped back against the edge of the table. “I feel like I could sleep for a whole week,” he said as Cas stood awkwardly near the doorway they’d just walked through.

“I… may not sleep for some time.” The Angel looked down at the floor.

Dean took in Cas’ haunted expression. “Hey, back in the… the reconditioning room, you said you remembered everything.”

Castiel looked up, then away from Dean again. “Yes, the process was designed to wipe my memory clean, but stopping it early must have broken whatever blocks they had put on my memories before. I remember all of it, Dean. Rescuing you from the Demons, my training, surgeries, my… my family.”

“Your real family?” Dean tried to play down his burning curiosity, but it wasn’t easy.

“Yes. I was taken from my parents at a young age. Made to undergo several surgeries to install my cybernetics. Years of training. I remember some of the missions I was sent on… I’d… rather not discuss those.” He stared into space with a haunted look.

Dean stood up and approached Castiel slowly. “Cas, you know that you can stay here with us for as long as you need to, right?”

Castiel shuffled awkwardly again. “Thank you. But you don’t need to do that. I’ll find somewhere…” He trailed off, looking lost.

“No, you’re welcome here, or wherever we end up.”

Castiel looked up at Dean. His blue eyes burned with an intensity Dean felt right down to his toes. “Dean, you don’t have to do this.”

“No, I do. I'm basically the reason you're in this position. Cas, I'm sorry. Sorry for all of it.”

“You don't need to apologize. I wanted to do it. I… had to.” Cas cast his eyes down. “The moment I saw you, I was lost. I went against orders again and again. Why?”

Dean caught his breath. There was no way he was letting the Angel out of his sight again without telling him exactly what his defiance of Paradise meant to him. Dean had to show him, or he might never work up the courage again. He reached forward and took Cas’ hand in his own, the warm metal hard under his fingers. He leaned forward until their noses were barely an inch apart. He whispered, “Please, stay.”

Then he closed the distance between them and brushed his lips over Castiel’s.

Cas gasped slightly, confusion crossing his face, then Dean moved forward and stole a slightly longer, deeper kiss. Castiel leaned into him, gasping again as Dean pulled back a second time.

Dean wasn’t sure whether he had crossed some line, but damn, he’d been wanting to kiss the Angel ever since he’d laid eyes on him. He needed to check on him, though. “Please let me know if I’m moving too fast here, if you’re uncomfortable we can…”

“No,” Castiel rumbled, and grabbing Dean roughly by his coat lapels, he spun him around and slammed him against the wall in a bruising kiss. How did the angel already know how to kiss like that?

When he pulled back with a smacking sound, they were both breathing heavily. “I’m sorry,” Cas panted, “you’re making things happen to my body that I don’t understand. I'm don't know a lot about human responses to stimuli…”

Dean huffed a laugh as he rested their foreheads together. “You are human, Cas. They didn’t teach you about sex up there in Paradise?”

“I was a soldier, Dean. There would be no point.”

He pulled Cas towards him until he could whisper into Cas’ ear, “Come on, Angel. I’ll show you.”

He grabbed Cas’ hand again and dragged him into the other bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind them. As he threw off his shirts and his t-shirt, Cas fitted his warm metal hand into place over the scar on Dean's shoulder, his blue eyes wide with wonder.

  


Sam cursed as he blinked his eyes. It felt like a small jackhammer was buzzing away in his head, and his mouth was dry as the Topzone. His hand shook as he moved to check the time on his comm—seven am. He vaguely remembered returning to the bunker above the school the previous day, but it was all a little hazy. He sat up, draining the glass of water on the nightstand. He was going to have to go looking for more.

He staggered into the hallway and found his way to the small kitchen, then made his way out to the bookshelf room with another glass of water and some dry biscuits he found in the pantry. Thankfully someone, perhaps Garth, had kept this place well-stocked with canned and packaged food, and even though having to eat the canned carrots and beans was going to get old fast, they should be able to go for a while without having to buy anything.

He settled at a table, surrounded by books, content for the first time in a few days. Their lives were never boring, but he’d happily take a few days of doing nothing, if this headache would just fuck off and people would stop trying to kill them. He glanced at his comm again, seeing a message notification. _Ruby…_ He debated just deleting it—he didn’t want to listen to whatever she had to say, but his curiosity got the better of him and he hit play, sitting back to listen.

“ _Sam, I’m so sorry. For everything I put you through. While my original mission was to prepare you to get rid of Lilith and take over Elysium production, I had no idea of the greater plans for the city. Please, believe me on that. In any case, I’ve hope I’ve redeemed myself by releasing the virus, and destroying the Elysium._ ”

Sam snorted. That was debatable.

“ _I know you were here in Paradise and you busted Castiel out of the reconditioning lab before you killed Zachariah and Uriel—nice work, by the way. I hope that if Castiel is all right, that he can forgive me, but I had no choice. I had to convince the Angels that I had brought him in. I hope you can also forgive me, one day. I am going to stay here now. I want to free the other Angels from their brainwashing, but it won’t be easy. Someone new has stepped in to oversee the Angels—Luke Morningstar, the councillor. I hope you’re safe and secure. You need to lay low for now, and I’ll feed you information when I can. Still yours, Ruby._ ”

Sam sat back, considering her words. He'd been so upset after hearing she was an Angel, then so angry after the metro station that he'd barely been able to look at her. He certainly wasn't going to rush to trust her again now, especially after how she dumped Cas in the shit. He supposed it might be worth hearing what she had to report, though. As long as they took it with a grain of salt.

He was about to call Charlie as promised, when he heard a noise in the hall, outside the room. Castiel walked in, followed by Dean.

His brother was mid-sentence, “...sure you won’t stay a little longer? Just until we know how aggressively the Angels are looking for us?”

Castiel turned to glance back at Dean, shaking his head. “No. I need to go and find them. I can’t get the image out of my head—I need to know what happened to them, if they’re still alive, even.” He reached out a hand to gently place it on Dean’s cheek. “I’ll return as soon as I can, I promise.” He leaned forwards, placing a kiss on Dean’s mouth.

Sam blinked. Well, that was unexpected. He knew Dean was sometimes into guys, but Castiel had seemed… reserved.

Dean grabbed the Angel’s coat, pulling him in closer, but Sam cleared his throat loudly and they sprang apart, startled.

“Hi,” Sam said, giving a small wave.

Castiel straightened his coat. “Hello, Sam. I’m just leaving, for a little while. I’ll return when I can.” He turned back to Dean. “Goodbye, Dean.” He turned and left, shutting the door behind him.

Dean looked like a kicked puppy as he trudged up to where Sam was sitting amid the bookshelves. He took a breath and led with, “So, uh, me and him, we uh…”

Sam interrupted. “It’s fine, Dean. You don’t have to spell it out.” He smiled, glad that they could find some level of joy from this fucked up week.

Dean eyed him. “What're you doing out of bed, anyway? How's your head?”

“Sore, but not unbearable yet. Where’s Cas off to?”

Dean sat down on a chair nearby. “When he was in the memory wipe room, he remembered his parents. He says he needs to find them—wouldn’t listen when I asked him to wait.”

“His birth parents? Fuck… that's amazing. He’s had a rough life, Dean. Let him rediscover his past.”

“Yeah, I know. I’d just rather we did it together, you know, watch each other’s backs.”

Sam nodded, pausing before adding, “I got a message from Ruby.”

“Oh? What’s that bitch got to say for herself?”

Sam tried to calm the shaking in his hands long enough to play the message.

Dean looked thoughtful for a few moments, then said, “Luke Morningstar? Should've known it wouldn’t be as easy as taking out one head. They’re like a hydra, these Angels.” He sighed.

Sam chuckled. “Nothing to do now but wait, I guess. At least we’re together, and safe for now. Let’s worry about Paradise another day.”

“Sure. I’m gonna check out the pantry, see if Garth’s got any alcohol stashed.”

“Dean, it’s eight in the morning!”

“So? It’s happy hour somewhere.”

**The End (for now)**

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading this story! If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a comment and/or sharing with others. 
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr](http://ellen-of-oz.tumblr.com/) for more fics and recommendations.
> 
> You can find idjitsaviors on [Tumblr](https://idjitsaviors.tumblr.com/) as well.


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